Pyrite
by DanteBeatrice77
Summary: "I know pyrite from 24 carat, cubics from genuine diamonds, a call from a woman who loves you and hello from a friend." - Frank Ocean
1. Start All Over

A/N: I'll admit I'm excited about this project. Merry Christmas.

* * *

"You give that permission slip to your teacher today, _Giuliana_ Ballgame?" Jane Rizzoli held the hand of a spritely six year old, all black mane barely contained by a ponytail holder and awkward limbs.

"Yeah, Mamma," Elena Giuliana Rizzoli replied, affectionately monikered "Giuliana Ballgame" after Jane's beloved Ted Williams, since names having anything to do with _Theodore_ , _Samuel,_ or _Williams_ had been expressly forbidden by Maura for their daughter. Jane had to admit, even through her squint caused by the sun of mid afternoon, that Elena was her kid through and through. Before her birth, when Maura had carried her for the both of them, - _I love you more than anything, but I will be the one carrying this child_ , she had said, _because I am in far less life-threatening situations. -_ Jane had wanted a plain name, a delicate one. Perhaps Sarah, or Emily. Something English, something easy. Something that signaled the safety for their child that Maura so craved.

But, one look at Elena in Maura's arms after her first gasps, already squirming and head adorned in a shock of dark hair, and she knew her wife had made the right choice: only an Italian-ass name would fit this Italian-ass baby.

Her wife had put it more eloquently of course, something along the lines of _I want her to have a name that reflects her heritage, that makes her both aware and proud that she is Italian_. Thus, Elena Giuliana. Maura's favorite professor in Med School had been named Elena, and Angela had loved the name Giuliana ever since she had thought Tommy was going to be her second daughter.

Clearly, as her brother had been her brother for 36 years now, it was not meant to be. Jane mused on this as she picked her daughter up when they reached the parking lot of the crowded elementary school, a protective holdover from when the girl had just started preschool. _Many things in life seem not meant to be_ , she thought to herself as she waited for a blue Subaru to whiz by them.

Elena noticed. Usually she kicked - in delight or in protest, depending on her mood, but today, she let her mother hold her and ran tiny fingers along the creases in Jane's forehead. "What's wrong?" she asked, as she had a lot lately. Just after her fourth birthday, she mastered contractible copulae. Just after her sixth, she began to inquire on emotional states.

Then, her motive had been pure curiosity: faces contorted around her in a gamut of feelings she had yet to experience, and that was fascinating. Now, almost nine months later, those motives became more personal: turmoil, anxiety bubbled in her viscera, not exposed to her understanding or her consciousness, but nevertheless present. She sought to release them.

"Nothing's wrong, kid," said Jane distractedly, making her way to her cruiser parked toward the back of the lot.

Elena was not convinced. "Yes there is. Your forehead's smushed," she reasoned, continuing her push against the minimal creases in her mother's skin.

Jane sighed. Her exhale rattled and sounded wet with indecision. These moments had been exactly the kind her therapist had told her to watch out for. She could pull out the patented Rizzoli response of deflection and denial, or she could be honest. For a moment, the former option seemed bright, shiny, much more viable than the discomfort of truth. However, the possibility of making her daughter the latest emotional cripple in her family pushed her in the other direction. "There is. I got a lot on my mind. Work, you, your mom, MY mom," she threw in Angela at the last moment and sighed dramatically, this causing Elena to giggle. _Some things, though, will never change._

" _Nanna_ 's a lot to worry about," the young girl answered quietly on the tail end of her laugh. She placed her hand on Jane's shoulder, and the older woman swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You got that right, Ballgame. We both got a whole life of experience in that, huh?" the detective muttered, and took her daughter's backpack in her hand. After securing Elena in the backseat, she put the pack next to her in the front, and drove off, back towards the station.

* * *

"Hey Ma," Jane breathed when she saw her mother waiting for her outside the Division One Cafe. She tugged Elena along, the girl being preoccupied with some spot on her purple shirt. Maura had taken to dressing their child from the moment she could, and Jane wondered if she wouldn't look like her daughter's twin had she let her dress the both of them. "Thanks for doin' this. I would have taken the rest of the day, but, you know."

Angela, hair still up from work and purse in hand, hugged her daughter with gusto. "Thank _you_ for picking her up, and going to her observation. It was slammed over at the Robber so I couldn't take my usual break in the afternoon. Vince loves all the foot traffic we're getting, but I don't know if I do," she said next to Jane's ear. "That means afternoons with my _Giuliana_ are gonna be spent with Blue Moon and bar peanuts!" she exclaimed as she knelt to open her arms for her granddaughter to run into them.

The girl obliged, but rethought her decision when she was showered with kisses. " _Nanna!"_ she shrieked, dissatisfied but unable to contain her chuckles, and Jane allowed herself a brief indulgence in the happiness that fizzed around her heart.

"I'll pick her up when I get off, ok? Should be around six. If not, I'll get Maura to do it. She's got somebody comin' to the house to look at the upstairs bathroom around 5:00, but I'm sure if she has to, she can reschedule it."

Angela's features turned incredulous. "She's payin' a plumber? Why didn't she ask you to look at it?"

"I don't know, Ma. But it's what she wanted so I ain't gonna argue."

"That's nonsense, Janie. You do better work than half the plumbers in the area. You do better work than your father, for goodness' sake."

Jane shrugged. Elena hung on her grandmother's hand, suddenly very interested in her shoes and the straps of her backpack. The detective glanced between the two generations with reserve.

"If you don't talk some sense into-" Angela began.

"Ma!" Jane cut off whatever was about to be said. "Drop it," she growled with a pointed look toward her daughter, and Angela put up her free hand in surrender.

"Don't worry about it if you two can't pick her up, Baby," the matriarch said. "I'm at the Robber until nine tonight; I'll find some time to bring her home for dinner."

Jane moved to hug her mother, and they embraced for several long seconds. "Thanks again, Ma," she breathed out so quietly that she wondered if her mother even heard. She was rewarded with an extra tight squeeze. It had been another one of her therapy goals - express gratitude more often.

"Don't even think about it. You know I love my grandbabies more than anything," said Angela as the detective moved to hug her daughter tight. "Isn't that right, Elena _?"_

The girl nodded and tugged toward the door. "Can I get some fries at the Robber?" She asked with a bounce in her body. Jane winked at her and nodded to her mother.

"Coming' right up," Angela laughed. "And Jane? Don't let all this get to you, alright? I know work and stuff's a mess right now, but everything's gonna be ok."

Jane so desperately wanted to believe it.

* * *

"Maura! We're here," said Jane awkwardly as she stepped through the front door of the Beacon Hill space that had been the only place that'd felt like home in the past ten years. She remembered walking in it for the first time when she was 32 - young, naive, and so fascinated by Maura Isles. It was a year after she first met Maura, and it signaled the start of four more that moved from friendship to courtship, then to marriage and Elena.

42 brought so much more knowledge, experience, and insight with it.

Elena plopped herself in front of the couch, at the coffee table, and took out her coloring book, something that her doctor mother had insisted would help with her eyesight. Jane had feared for her daughter's emotional well-being after hearing that she needed glasses at four, but Elena had absorbed them into her life with little to no qualms.

Not long after she began her activity, Maura emerged from upstairs. "Hi," she said, donning a dark blouse and jeans, her at-home attire. She was barefoot, and moved into the kitchen to set the teapot to boil.

"Hey," Jane said simply, fiddling with her keys at the counter. She waited, as she had done for awhile now, for Maura to speak first. Therapy was teaching her lots of things, she figured.

"How was it with Elena's teacher?" Maura asked, moving to give her full attention to Jane. She muted her tone; a signal that whatever was about to be discussed, their daughter was not meant to hear it.

"Good, real good. She said Elena turned in that permission slip for the aquarium, but I asked Elena before we got to the car, just in case," Jane shifted on her feet. Whisper-talking was not really in the Rizzoli vocal register.

"I'm not sure why she's been so forgetful lately," Maura mused, trouble etched across her forehead and mouth.

"Well, Ms. Dougherty says it isn't really translating to school work," Jane offered as a consolation.

Maura only nodded as she took out a tea bag and a mug.

"I think you were right, though," the detective said, shoving her keys back into her pocket, jingling them with nervous attention. "I watched her today. For like a half hour."

"And?"

"She needs to skip a grade. She's heads and shoulders above a lot of those kids," with that, Jane looked lovingly at the head just visible past the back of the couch.

Maura watched her wife watch their child and struggled to keep tears at bay. "I can talk to administrators about it on Monday. I'm glad you see my point."

"Yeah," Jane shrugged. "Guess I was just a little worried about her bein' picked on. But after her thing with her glasses went so well, I think she'll be fine."

Maura smiled. "She is a Rizzoli and that cannot be doubted."

"No kidding. So how'd it go with the plumber?" the detective asked, switching subjects in half a heartbeat. She felt icy pangs of regret in her spine, however, when her wife immediately closed off.

"I'm not sure. He said it would take at least a week before he could complete the job," said Maura. She looked into her mug with concentration.

As she expected, Jane's features turned severe. "A week?" Her voice rose. "He doin' an entire remodel?!"

Maura looked up with defiance. "He has to order a part, because my bathtub is custom-made. It is going to take awhile to get here. I am more than willing to wait if it means getting the problem fixed."

"You also willing to pay an arm and a leg?! C'mon. You know I could do it in half the time." Jane returned to whispering, but the harsh quality of her previous utterance remained.

"I needed to prove to myself that I could take care of these things. You're not always going to be around to do them," Maura hissed back. All the while, their daughter stayed unaware of the mounting tension between her parents.

"Well _I_ didn't kick me out, Maura," Jane responded with acidity.

"You're right. I did," they stood toe to toe, and the doctor's gaze bled as much intensity as she was given.

It was what dismantled Jane. Her face fell, softened, and her shoulders slumped. "Why didn't you ask me to do it, Maura? You know I woulda done it. No strings attached. Just because I love my family."

Maura sighed as a stalling tactic to keep from crying, again. "I don't want Elena Giuliana getting the wrong idea. I don't want her expecting you here, Jane."

"Would it be so bad? If she expected me here? You know, where she lives?" asked the detective. She inched toward her estranged spouse, inhaling with gusto, searching out any hint of the scent that she had been deprived of for months now. She remembered falling asleep to that smell, the one of vanilla and honey. It stayed with her as she showered, or when she buried her face into one of the woman's sweaters that she had stolen when no one was looking.

One look at the flared nostrils and ballooning chest, and Maura knew. She let it happen, turned her neck a certain way so that a little bit of her perfume wafted toward the taller of the two them. "Yes, it would be," the steadfastness of her words belied the softness, openness of her body. When Jane recoiled as if in pain, she clarified. "You and I aren't together, Jane. We're married, but we're not together. I don't want to lie to my daughter by giving her false hope."

"That doesn't mean I automatically get relegated to absentee parent, Maura," barked Jane. Elena turned back for a moment, but then turned back around when she saw the anger radiating off of her mother.

"I didn't say that," Maura countered, "but there's a middle road between those two extremes."

Jane seemed to consider this for a moment. "Maybe you're right. But I really don't think paying hundreds of dollars and waiting hundreds of hours for a plumber to do what I could do in a weekend is a stop on that middle road, either."

Maura stood, scrutinizing her wife for a long few minutes, watching those Sicilian eyes gloss through what must have been ten different emotions. She wanted to reach out, to soothe, as she had done so many times before. She sighed instead - long and loud, something she had gotten used to doing. "I suppose… I suppose that you're right. And I suppose that you can take a look at the bathtub."

Jane gave her a smile that exposed nearly all her teeth. "Good. Good."

"Elena, sweetheart, your mother and I are going to go upstairs to look at the broken bathtub. Wash up for dinner, ok?" Maura adopted her sweet clinical voice, the one that was syrupy, but unrelenting.

"Is Ma gonna fix it?" the six year old asked as she hopped up from her spot to her feet, a heavy hopefulness in her voice.

Maurat couldn't bring herself to answer. Jane did it for her. "I'm gonna see what I can do, Ballgame. Listen to your Mom and get washed up, yeah?"

There was a slight hesitation before Elena's nod in affirmation, and Maura knew it intimately. She saw the question that had died on her daughter's lips before it left them, the _are you staying for dinner_ that she never let Jane say yes to. She waved Jane up the stairs in urgency, desperate to hide the guilt taking over her, and to hide the vulnerability that churned in her at the sight of a Rizzoli resigned, a young Rizzoli at that.

Either her wife didn't see, or didn't want to, because when they reached the top of the stairs, Jane gave her a short grin and pointed toward the master bedroom. "Lead the way."

Maura did as asked. She stepped through the doorway and onto the carpet, the disarray of the bathroom creeping back into her memory. She shivered, and calmed her overdriven cleaning impulse. She focused on the comfortable, on the positives - her bed was made, pillows in place and symmetrical, there were no clothes strewn about, her dresser and various tables were immaculate. After a hefty look-through, she turned to Jane to let her into the room and eventually the master bath.

Jane didn't move.

Suddenly, Maura knew why: Jane hadn't been in what was _their_ bedroom for eight months. Once her things had been cleared, Maura had insisted she leave this as an untouched space. Memories must have hit her with enough power to stun her: her breaths halted before they became shallow, her skin flushed, and she began to sweat.

"C'mon," Maura said softly, taking Jane's wrist. She sympathized, she really did. She saw her wife's ghost every time she put her head down to sleep, she knew the power of love lost. "He said that the leak was hard to find, and he suspects the overflow gasket? He's still not sure I suppose; he said it could be several things, and he will hunt for it when he comes back."

"Well, good thing I'm a detective, then, huh?" Jane attempted humor to bolster herself, but her shaky whisper betrayed her. So, she knelt toward the hole in the drywall and looked inside. "When, uh, when did you first suspect it was leakin'?" she asked, suddenly all business.

Maura grabbed a flashlight and one of her dentist's mirrors from under the sink without thinking and handed them to Jane - an artifact from the many times she had helped her with plumbing work throughout their life together. "I noticed a spot on the ceiling in the study about a week ago," she said, licking her lips when Jane's fingers brushed her own to take the tools.

"Well, there's the spot," said Jane, pointing to the wide discoloration in the wet wall directly below the bathtub, "and that's concerning," she finished as she pointed to the water streaks on the copper piping in front of her. "Ok. I'm gonna check for leaks now. Turn the tub on for me? Fill it a few inches and then we're gonna let it stand for a few minutes."

Maura disappeared around the corner to turn the knob on the tub wordlessly, and when Jane heard the pipes groan to life, she placed the mirror under the tub near the drain. Her wife returned after she shut it off and crouched next to her as they waited. They watched the mirror together for those few minutes.

"Well, your plumber's an idiot," croaked Jane, "because it' ain't the tub."

 _Of course_ thought Maura. _Of course I pick the one shitty plumber in Beacon Hill_. "Well, dammit. What should I do?" She cursed, and Jane had to chuckle at her frustration and cute-ass pout.

"Hey, don't get bent out of shape so fast, a'right?" Jane reasoned with her hand on the small of the other woman's back. "Just do me a favor and turn the shower on."

The little touch sparked Maura into action, and she did as told.

"Bingo!" she heard Jane yell from the other side of the wall. There's the leak!"

"So…?" the doctor waited on baited breath for the results, having trotted back to look at Jane with anticipation.

"Good news is when I looked up there, I saw the shower arm leaking onto the valve. That means I don't have to cut another hole in the drywall to fix it. More good news is that it's gonna cost nothing near what you were quoted. Bad news is that plumber is either helplessly stupid, or I'm gonna have to lock him up for fraud," Jane winked when she finished, the tell-tale signs of exhilaration on her features. Be it murder or plumbing or anything in between, deduction was a good look on her.

Maura's heart fluttered a beat, then two: once in arousal, once in anger: _must_ Jane always throw her weight around? And at her expense. "Alright, alright. Where would I be without you?" She rolled her eyes, despite the fact that she couldn't help but mirror the detective's grin.

It was unequivocally the wrong thing to say.

Jane's eyes were sad, and then hard. She cleared her throat. "I uh, I can come by this weekend to fix it up. No special European parts needed."

Maura wanted to go to her, to hold her, to see the sadness leave her. Part of her also wanted Jane to reap the consequences of her actions. "What would I owe you?"

Jane seemed affronted at the idea. "Absolutely nothing. Who do you think I am, Maur?"

"It's customary to pay someone when they do work of this nature, at least in some capacity."

"But you're _my wife_ , separated or not. I don't want anything but your time."

Maura felt a beat between her legs, rather than between her lungs. "You know that I'm… I'm not ready to give that, Jane." It sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

Jane latched onto the vulnerability and walked several long strides back into the bedroom to make herself almost flush with the woman in front of her. "Look, I fucked up, ok? I know I fucked up. But my kid needs me, Maura. My kid needs me and I know you want me still. Somewhere deep down."

Of course that was true. It was true especially when the spice of Jane's androgynous perfume and sweat lapped at Maura's nostrils, and when Jane's heat was so close to her. She forced herself to remember why they were in this position in the first place, in order to fortify her stance. "It's dinner time, Jane, so I need you to say goodbye to Elena and go."


	2. One Day I Will

A/N: Thank you for all your follows and reviews. I really, really appreciate it. Now, are you buckled in? Let's go for a ride.

* * *

" _So… this Hermann guy - worked at SolCorp what? Three years?" Jane asked. The way her nostrils flared gave her_ the look _._

 _The look, as Frankie had so termed it, was the combination of need-for-justice and killer's instinct that gave his sister's brow a downward arch and her eyes an extra shade of black. "Yeah. Guess he was pretty high up in sales. When he found out that the company was downsizing and he was bein' cut, the place's old security detail said he lost it," he answered. "Had to escort him out and call the cops."_

 _She swiveled in her chair in response, lost in thought. The bullpen was warm as February's chill raged outside - Jane found it ironic that the sun was out, and bright. "I'm not saying I get what he did, because I don't. But solar's growing, contending with the traditional power companies. Why did they start to fail? If I were him, I'd be askin' these questions."_

 _Korsak, in his usual brown suit and tie, pointed to her in approval. "You think he dug something up on the victim?"_

 _Frankie moved to the computer behind his sister's to sign on, and Jane nodded. "I mean, how else do you explain that going off on some guy that wasn't even his immediate supervisor? We're talkin' distant coworker at best. Definitely higher up," she explained._

" _So you're thinkin' he found something he didn't like about our guy and that's why the company eventually tanked," said Frankie, searching for confirmation as he typed away. "Company wasn't very big yet. Doubt they had the resources to launch a full scale investigation when it capsized."_

" _And if Hermann took whatever Perez did personal, there's a good chance he's the guy we're lookin' for - the guy with Perez's wife."_

* * *

"Why isn't Ma taking me?" Elena asked Maura simply - transparent the way only a child could be. Her tone held no judgment, no real disappointment, but the bluntness of it hurt her mother's heart for a moment. They walked hand in hand through the parking lot of the sporting goods store on an early Saturday afternoon, the early-October sun of just a few days ago giving way to the mid-October gloom they walked through. They wore matching coats to ward off the cold, and matching jeans, dark against their skin.

Maura took comfort in this, and in the fact that Elena meant nothing by what she asked. "Because your _Mamma_ got called into work today," said with a smile that started off forced, but became genuine when she saw it reflected back at her in Rizzoli miniature. "So, we are here to pick out the kind of glove you like."

"But it's not Christmas yet," Elena insisted with a far off hope. Would she really be getting her promised glove today? The thought made her bounce with excitement. By the time they reached the storefront, she bobbed up to the door and snatched it open for her mother. Maura saw Jane in the pull of the handle and the hand beckoning her inside, and when the smell of leather and glove polish hit her nose, she swore her pericardium had shrunk.

"No it isn't. Whatever glove you like, we're going to take pictures and send it to your mother, so that she can send them to Richard," Dr. Rizzoli explained. Her voice rose over the quiet radio play and speech of other shoppers.

"Who's Richard?" Elena was just in earshot, having bolted beyond cleats and scorebooks toward the rows and rows of baseball gloves against a wall.

Maura waited to jog up to her daughter before answering. "Richard is your _Mamma_ 's glove connection. His work is to make custom baseball gloves at a company."

The little girl waved her fingers over so many of them, reverently as though they would disintegrate with the slightest carelessness. Her jacket swished when she moved her arms, providing the timid soundtrack to this little venture. Timid was the last adjective Maura thought that she would ever use to describe her child, but if there wasn't a first time for everything.

She had experienced love at first sight before, with Jane - though she'd had no idea then. Never had she _seen_ it, been on the outside looking in for such a wondrous, supernatural moment, until now. Elena Giuliana Rizzoli, all of 81 months and a few days, found her match. Well, her type, Maura supposed she should amend, as the girl had stone-cold halted in front of the wall of infielder's gloves. Like Jane, Elena regained all her boldness when she knew what she wanted. She grabbed Maura's hand, and pointed to a Wilson that hung right at the woman's eye-level.

"You want to try on this one, my love?" she asked, looking down into dark brown eyes. On the one hand, she felt elated, proud to be part of this milestone. On the other, she felt woefully incomplete. _Jane should be here; this is her moment_.

Elena's swift nod that made her ponytail swish to and fro convinced her to forge ahead. She grabbed the black and brown glove, still stiff, and placed it on her daughter's left hand. "Now, do you prefer catching with your left? Or your right?" she asked, realizing that she had assumed glove position based on Elena's preferred writing hand. Part of the reason she had accrued the Giuliana Ballgame nickname was her ambidextrous t-ball playing: Jane had declared her a sports prodigy on the spot. Thus, since she hit on both sides, and fielded with both sides, Maura guessed the choice should be hers.

"The left," Elena whispered, still in awe, and flexed the leather on her hand. Her enamored eyes said it all.

"Good," said Maura, hearing Jane in her head. _You're my Natural, Giuliana Ballgame_. She wondered for a moment if she should say it, but then decided that it would only sound right coming from her wife. Instead, she pulled out her phone and took enough pictures of the glove to make Jane dizzy.

* * *

"I got the emergency coffee text. What's goin' on, Girl?" Nina Holiday, in a cute black vest and lilac short-sleeve button up, shuffled into Maura's office with two coffees and a pastry bag in tow.

"Oh thank God," the Medical Examiner exhaled. She motioned for the coffee without getting up from her chair, as politely as her upbringing allowed, and moaned when she took a hearty gulp. "That's good."

Nina sat across from her, her tight curls swishing as she turned to make sure no one was walking in. "Did you not sleep?"

Rain pelted on the tiny window above Maura's desk. "I got called out to a body last night around midnight. Turns out, Jane was also working the case. Thankfully Angela could come into the main house while Elena slept, but she had to work early this morning for deliveries, so I had to run home and drop Elena off at school. And after it taking forever with the rain and the forensics, I've been on my feet all morning - this is the first I'm getting to sit," she let the story out in a rush, "and I have the autopsy in… a half hour," she finished with a glance at the clock.

"Well damn, sounds like a long night," Nina offered, "and not in a good way."

"I _wish_ it was in a good way," Maura replied, clearly picking up on the double entendre. She grabbed her half of the croissant that Nina had brought for the both of them, taking a bite while twirling her hair around her other forefinger.

Nina had been there as a friend and a shoulder when she asked Jane to move out. Obviously, the woman was invested in the both of them, but she offered honest opinions and no judgments. Maura respected her for this. "Well, not saying you were wrong, but you did kick out your one consistent source of orgasm 'bout eight months ago."

"Don't remind me," sighed Maura. "I'm not saying I was wrong either, but not having sex with her is _very_ difficult."

"I can imagine," Nina replied with a chuckle. "Can't we just keep that part and ditch the rest of the relationship?"

Maura laughed openly, something she did almost exclusively with Nina now. "I'd be a much happier camper, that's for sure."

"I'm sure she would be, too," the intel expert commented. "Some mornings that mood is just downright foul."

"That has nothing to do with whether we're sleeping together or not, trust me," Maura raised an eyebrow as she brought her cup to her lips with both hands. It should have sounded acrid, but mostly it was playful.

Nina seized the moment. "So, how are you? You know, with everything going on. Last time I checked in you were getting a plumber," they both paused to shiver at that error in judgment, "how'd that go?"

"Terribly. I called the worst plumber in Boston, apparently. He quoted me hundreds of dollars and at least a week's worth of my bathroom being out of commission. And of course, when Jane came over on Friday to drop off Elena, she went up there and found the problem immediately. Not only had he tried to wrestle nearly 500 dollars out of me, he completely misdiagnosed the issue. This gave my wife plenty of ammunition to gloat."

"Of course," said Nina, rolling her eyes, "how bad was the ribbing? Did she rub it in the whole time she was fixing it?"

"Well, she didn't fix it. And she didn't really rub it in, either. It was sort of a tense moment," explained Maura.

Nina nodded solemnly. "So, you didn't answer my question," she prodded. "How are you?"

"It's hard. It's hard not to ask her to come over when it's cold and late, or when Elena wants to practice for little league, or when," she paused, trying not to cry, but failing when her voice broke and one rebellious tear dropped to her napkin, "when I need the plumbing looked at. It's hard because _she's_ trying so hard."

"With therapy and everything?" Nina asked gently.

"Yes, with her therapist, and with Elena. God, she loves that baby so much. But, you know? I'm… I'm moving towards being okay. I think that night was a step backwards, considering we almost kissed, but not everything can be forward progress," answered Maura with a sharp inhale and a firm nod, as though to rally herself to the side of optimism.

"She loves you so much too, Maura," Nina said it, simply because she felt it needed to be. She worked with Jane up on the third floor; she knew exactly how the detective suffered. Then she realized what she had heard. "Wait a minute! You almost kissed?"

Instantly Maura turned red. She rose up from her chair, looked frantically at her watch, and set her coffee down. "I've really got to get started on that autopsy. Lunch tomorrow?" she threw the question backwards while she burst through to the autopsy suite.

"Oh, trust me, we'll be talkin' 'bout this, Dr. Rizzoli!" Nina shouted back as she got up to clear her trash from Maura's desk.

* * *

"Maura, Kent still hasn't given me the results on - Why're you sweating?" Jane stood in front of the slab with her victim on it, while Maura was elbow deep in the abdominal cavity. "It's freezin' out, _and_ it's freezin' in here."

The medical examiner contemplated not answering truthfully, but decided that that was more trouble than it was worth, especially when Jane didn't bother to hide her New England accent. The accent itself was slight, but the intimacy implied by Jane's unguarded speech made things more… complicated for her body. "Nina came by with coffee this morning and we started talking about sex."

Jane sputtered. "I… what…?"

"It's been awhile," Maura clarified. "As you well know." She took out the stomach to study what was inside.

"Yeah but I'm not sweating buckets over here."

"I've been thinking about it, is all. Sweat is a natural response. You should back away unless you want to smell the decedent's stomach contents."

"Jesus," Jane cursed, doing as was suggested to her. "How you can go from… you know, to undigested food in the same breath will always be a mystery to me." her face crinkled in disgust when she caught the strong odor anyway. She turned and ran a hand through her wild black hair, trying to regulate her breath.

"How it is so hard for you to just say the word 'sex' will always be a mystery to me," her wife countered. "Looks like the last meal was a cheap steak. Depending on diet and genetics, red meat can stay in the stomach undigested for a long while. This could prove tricky."

"Blegh. And it's because I was raised Catholic, Maura, you know this," said the detective, unable to help the grin from spreading when she caught Maura rolling her eyes.

"Well, you certainly had _no_ problem doing it, despite your inability to say it."

Jane blushed. "Yeah well. We're a complicated folk."

"Indeed. I need to finish up a few other things here, and then I have a meeting. I thought I was going to start this autopsy around ten, but as soon as Nina left, I got caught up with some of the criminalists," Maura explained. It was nearly 2PM, just a half hour before Elena let out of school. "Could you ask your brother to pick up Elena Giuliana? I know he said today was his day off and I hate to bother him, but I just can't leave."

It sounded innocent enough, especially if the person listening had not been privy to the current Rizzoli family situation. Jane looked wounded, as if a bullet had clipped her heart. "I can do it, Maura. I've got nothing goin' till I get those forensics anyway."

Maura hesitated. "I… I don't know how comfortable I feel-"

"You let me do it last week!" Jane cut her off, countering her point before she could even finish it.

"That is because a parent needed to do the observation and I had that consultation with the Assistant Medical Examiners. You know I had no choice," Maura spat back, instantly defensive.

"Well I think the fact that I brought Elena back home in one fucking piece should be grounds for giving me another shot. I swear to Christ-" Jane began, but closed her eyes and inhaled loudly in attempt to summon all her therapist's advice for these moments. "You know what? I'm sorry. And, I get why you don't want to trust me. But you know there's no one that's gonna fight as hard to protect that kid as I am. You know deep down that she's safe with me."

"I _don't_ know that she is, Jane, that's the problem," Maura said, all the fight leaving her. "But go. Pick up our daughter. I should have some results for you by the end of the day."


	3. Push

A/N: Things start to pick up a little bit here. Thanks so much for reviewing.

* * *

" _How's it goin' down here?" Jane sauntered into the autopsy suite, a smile on her face._

" _Good…" Answered Maura with an inquisitive look, "It looks like things are well for you, too. I'm assuming you all have made headway with Mr. Perez's case?" She was in the midst of stitching up said man, after having reopened him for a second round of tests. The problem of the missing wife had set them all on a tired, sleepless edge the past few days._

" _Think so. Disgruntled coworker we dug up while doing interviews with some of the people who used to work for SolCorp. He's definitely layin' low, wherever he is, and guy's been a real whack job for awhile now," Jane explained._

" _Not camping out at his home address, I presume?" Maura raised a brow in question because she couldn't look at her wife while she stitched away._

" _That'd be too easy. Address on his driver's license is bogus - belongs to a Subway, of all things."_

 _Maura laughed. "We couldn't make it up if we tried, could we?"_

" _Nope, but we're close to finding out where he really lives," Jane answered. She moved closer to the woman now peeling off her gloves, standing right behind her. "Hey."_

" _Hey yourself," Maura said without turning, only motioning for the taller woman to unclip her wavy hair._

 _Jane did so with pleasure. "Unless we catch this guy right now, I'm not gonna be home till late," she grumbled when she slumped her head down onto Maura's crown. She inhaled the shampoo scent there, letting it swirl up tidal pools of relief in her bones._

" _I will wait up for you. You know that," Maura squeaked out the last part when dancing fingers paraded from her shoulders, to her arms, to her hips._

" _You will?"_

" _I will. I always will."_

" _Even if I come back with a broken nose and road rash?" Jane joked._

 _Maura didn't laugh when she turned around, because the sallow bruising around Jane's nose was still visible. And, she knew if she looked behind the button-up on her torso, she would see the scabbing remnants of yet another brush with death. "I wouldn't kid about these things if I were you. You're still on probation for this last stunt," even though her eyes danced with a little mischief, her warning still rang strong._

" _Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't chase after bad guys if it means bodily harm," Jane laughed, the sound easy and free. Maura's gaze was anything but._

" _No, don't try to jump onto the back of moving vehicles. Or charge a paranoid-schizophrenic suspect holding a gun," Maura clarified, her brow furrowing, "This is the fifth life-threatening stunt you've pulled since Elena was born. Things will not go over well if you continue."_

 _Jane kissed the forehead smooth again. "Ok. I hear you. Think before I leap."_

" _I'd like to think of it as love before you leap. Love back all the people who love you before you run off to sacrifice your body at the altar of justice," Maura said as she accepted the hug offered. She inhaled; Jane smelled warm, strong, feminine, as she always did. The passage of time altered many things, she reasoned, but not this. Time. "Oh my god. What time is it?" She shrieked as she pulled back to glance at her watch._

 _2:04 PM._

" _Like two. Shouldn't you be leaving to pick up Elena now?" Jane blinked innocently._

" _I should, yes, but I just remembered that I have a meeting with the lieutenant scheduled for 2:30!"_

" _Ok, so reschedule. I can talk to him if you want."_

" _I can't. I've already rescheduled twice. Could you please go get her? You can bring her down to my office when you get back, but I really need to go to this meeting," Maura begged, nearly jutting out her lower lip._

 _Jane growled with annoyance and acquiescence the same. "Maura, we're about to come up big. I need to be around in case we catch this guy."_

" _Please, Jane?" Maura pleaded again, this time grabbing onto the front of her wife's belt, and pulling ever so gently._

" _Maura!" exclaimed Jane as she blushed and swatted the hands at her waist away. "We're at work!" When Maura raised an eyebrow as if to say_ when has that stopped you?, _she caved. "Alright alright. I'll go get her. But i'm bringing her right back."_

" _Good. She can spend the afternoon with me," were the last words Jane heard as she walked away and rode the elevator back up to the third floor._

 _She strode over to her desk, grabbed her keys and looked to her fellow detectives in apology. "Sorry guys, but I gotta go pick up Elena. Maura's got a meeting with the Lu in like twenty minutes."_

 _Frankie shook his head. "Don't worry about it Janie; go be a parent."_

 _Korsak agreed, waving her off. "Hopefully we'll find him by the time you're done and we can ride out together. If we don't, you'll have plenty of work to keep you busy when you get back."_

* * *

"You like left field or right field better?" Frankie Rizzoli asked of his niece as they sat side by side on the floor, their legs all straight in a row under his coffee table. Maura had agreed to let her watch the Patriots game if Frankie also incorporated educational play into their day. Hence the puzzle-building while the announcers droned on in the background.

"I like to play both," Elena answered. She snatched another piece of the Citgo sign for their recreation of Fenway at night.

"What?! Everyone has a favorite!" Frankie gasped in faux shock. He gulped down some Cherry Coke, a luxury Elena was only (semi-) allowed when she came over to his apartment.

"Well, I have a favorite, too. But it's a secret. You can't tell my _Mamma_ ," Elena whispered conspiratorially, turning to her uncle and placing a little finger over his full lips.

"Listen kid," he said, and the air from his words on her finger made his niece giggle. "If it's one thing I'm good at, it's keepin' secrets from your Ma."

"You promise?"

"Pinky promise," he replied. When he held his pinky for her to grasp, he continued. "Want me to tell you a secret that your Ma can't know, that way we're even?"

"Yeah," she said as she squeezed.

"Well, you can never breathe a word of this to her," he began, leaning in close. "but I made out with Stacy King in the 10th grade."

"Wow, I'm only in _2nd_ grade!" Elena Giuliana exclaimed, the most important part of the secret of course flying over her head.

Frankie laughed. "I know! Tenth grade seems lightyears away from you right now, but it'll be here before you know it. What's your secret, Ballgame?"

"I love to play third base," she said, so quietly so that he had trouble hearing it.

"No way…" he said, again with the faux-shock in his open mouth and wide eyes. "But Ted Williams played the outfield!"

"I know!" The child wailed as though the information had been eating her up inside.

This amused Frankie to no end, but he chose to mercifully end her suffering. How could he not, when they sat there in matching sweats and Tom Brady shirts? "Hey kid, you listen to me, alright?" When she nodded against his shoulder, he continued. "Your Ma couldn't care less about what position is your favorite. What matters to her is that you're happy playing it."

"But you said yourself Ted played left field! It's hard work playing in his shadow," she lamented, and Frankie guffawed. _The things this kid says_.

"I can imagine, E. But you don't have to. Your moms love you no matter what. And hey, who knows? Maybe you'll go down as the best 3B in Yawkey little league when all is said and done. You think you'd be able to do that if you try to pick whatever you think you should do instead of what you wanna do?"

"No," Elena conceded his point, but her eyes were downcast and tumultuous.

"What's up?" Frankie goaded, his detective senses tingling.

"What if Ma knows already and she's mad at me?"

"Look, I know for a fact that is not true, ok? Your Ma loves you more than anything else on Earth. And she's gonna continue to love and protect you til her dying day," Frankie put an arm around her shoulders, surprised that it bothered her so.

Until her next utterance, when he realized that it didn't. "But Mom's mad at Ma because of me, so she's already either sad or mad all the time."

He blinked a few times to let that sink in. Then he felt himself angering at the situation. "Is that what you think?" When she didn't answer, he turned toward her and moved her so that they could see eye to eye. "You think that whatever's goin' on with your parents is your fault?"

She nodded imperceptibly. He rolled with with it. "Well, don't, ok? Because it's not your fault. It's natural to think it is, because all kids do when their parents have problems. Hell, I thought that too, and I was 32 years old when it happened to me."

"But Mom was so mad when-"

"Hey! Hey. Whatever they have goin' on between them, that's between them. You don't worry about that crap. Your parents love you. And they love each other, believe it or not. Your Mom's a good person, Elena. And yeah, she's mad. So we all gotta give her some space. But don't ever think that it's your fault. Because it ain't," satisfied by the small smile on her lips and the way she clung to him as he talked, he ended his rant. "Now, hand me the last piece of Pesky's Pole."

* * *

"I don't see why we gotta meet with the Superintendent for this," grumbled Jane. She and Maura sat at the kitchen table of what used to be their shared home. Elena's belongings scattered here and there, the smell of something in the oven, and Maura sitting next to her leaning forward in a burgundy v-neck sweater - all reminders of what she had lost - did nothing to help her irritability.

"Because the testing window has closed," Maura answered, not looking up from the paperwork between them. "If someone hadn't taken so long to realize that her daughter needed to be moved up, we wouldn't have to." She said, smirking.

Jane cleared her throat and shuffled in her seat. "I'm uh, well. I do regret that one."

"It's alright. You were considering her social well-being, which is something I could learn to do more often," Maura shrugged, and pointed to the "social-emotional" section of the questionnaire. "Speaking of, help me with this."

The Patriots game was on at Fort Rizzoli - Beacon Hill, too. Jane wore a Pats hoodie and jeans, and until this moment, her hands had been stuffed in the front pocket. "Relationship with current and above level peers," she read the prompt aloud, "well that's dumb. How're we supposed to know how she acts with above level peers if she's not in an above level class? Just put superior. And in the comments section, somethin' like, 'plays well with others.'"

Maura nodded. "I agree that this questionnaire is not very thorough. We're lucky that Ms. Dougherty has been prepping not only our child, but us, for this moment. How about, 'treats others with respect and kindness irrespective of grade level affiliation?'"

Jane nodded. They worked quietly together for the next half hour or so after that, trading reasoning and anecdotes for Elena's grade move.

"So… I brought Elena straight home Friday. No gimmicks, no stops between Ma's and school," the detective said.

"I know," Maura acknowledged, carefully choosing her next words. "Thank you for that."

"I wanna prove to you that I can do this, Maura," Jane's next comment was much more forceful, more resolute.

Maura said nothing. She started to sign the papers that they had worked on together.

"I'm serious. I'll do whatever it takes."

"I never doubt your tenacity, Jane. You are relentless."

"Damn right. So tell me what I gotta do and I'll do it."

"Is it that simple? Your intentions were never the problem. I didn't kick you out because I questioned your loyalty or devotion to Elena Giuliana."

"Well, are you questioning my devotion to _you_ , then? Because I can guarantee you that you shouldn't," Jane shot back, her voice heavy with longing. "I can guarantee you I'm no less devoted to you now than I was eight months ago, or than I was seven years ago, or than I was ten years ago."

"I don't doubt that either. Devotion comes easy to you," Maura stated simply, finally looking Jane in the face.

"Love comes naturally to me, too, and when it does, it sticks around," Jane responded with an upcurled lip and narrowed vision. Maura heard the challenge, the _you let your love for me go,_ in-between the lines.

"You think I stopped loving you?" she spat, incredulity abounding. She pulled away from Jane's bubble.

"All I'm sayin' is I love you because I need to. Because I don't know any other way. I don't know how to stop; it's not something I can turn off," Jane said, her insinuations taking vicious shape.

Fury overtook Maura, so much so that her voice trembled, turned deadly in its softness. "And I choose to love you, every morning, when I wake up. That isn't inferior to your way of loving. Stop implying that it is. After all you've done, good and bad, and despite who you are - my hero and the biggest pain in the ass I've ever had - I still choose to get up every day and love you. Don't belittle that."

Jane had to swallow her next retort. She deflated, hanging her head. "Then why can't I come home?" she croaked.

The both of them snapped their heads toward the front door when they heard it open, before Maura could even think of a response.

Elena ran into the house, nose pink with cold. She flocked to her Italian mother and hugged her while Frankie hung her coat just past the doorway, surprised to see Jane still at the table where they had left her. "I had Cherry Coke," the child whispered, and Jane sniffed to stifle her tears.

She chuckled and it sounded wet in her throat. "I won't tell," she said.

Satisfied with that response, the girl slid off of her lap and went to her other mother, awaiting her customary kiss on the cheek. Maura obliged, and told her to wash up for dinner.

"Hey sis, I didn't mean to bring her before you guys were done, but Maura said to head back before dinner time," said Frankie Jr. "Smells good, by the way."

"Don't be fooled, Little Brother. It's a quinoa bake," Jane replied. She added her hasty signature to the forms on the table, and stood up.

"Thank you for watching her, Frankie," said Maura, careful to avoid Jane on her path to the kitchen to check on said bake. "We don't want her to know what's happening quite yet, at least not until we have some more answers about the skipping process."

"No problem. She's welcome anytime. Janie, can I talk to you outside?" he asked while he rubbed the back of his head, and though his sister was unsure about why, she nodded. "I'm gonna go; see ya Maura. Tell Elena I said goodbye."

Maura forced a smile for him, and waved him off. As soon as he and Jane stepped out into the biting cold, he growled in her direction. "I don't know what's goin' on with you and Maura, where you guys are at, but whatever is happening when Elena is around needs to fucking stop."

"Oh hey oh, how is that _any_ of your business?" Jane responded, hands up and face angry, more at his tone than his words.

"When she's basically telling me that she thinks your shit is her fault, it becomes my business, Sis," he stood firm in front of her, their eyes nearly level.

"Christ," said Jane, and the wind rushed out of her. Her vision blurred. "She said that?"

"Pretty much. She think's Maura's mad at you because of her. Which is true, so that's fucked up."

"I'll… I'll talk to her."

"I already did, but it would do a lot more good comin' from you. She idolizes you, Janie. Please don't give her a reason not to," his last words were a plea and not a fight.

Jane sighed heavily. They stood together in the crisp sunset for what felt like hours, thinking of their own father. She didn't trust herself not to sob, but finally spoke anyway. "Thanks, Frankie. I couldn't ask for a better brother."

"Even when I ride your ass?" he asked, lightly punching her arm.

She responded by hugging him full force. "Especially when you ride my ass."

He laughed, said his goodbyes, and then pulled out of the driveway. She watched him the whole way, the bruised orange and purple-pink of the sky making everything seem more heavy. More real. She pondered blame and high stakes, and wondered how, when this whole time she had been trying to spare Elena, the kid inherited the catholic guilt in spades.

Maura was handing their daughter plates and silverware to set the table when she came back inside: only two of each, and the game had been shut off. A clear message. Jane took it with the lumps Frankie had given her, and chose to bow out.

Her wife acknowledged her, and Elena. "Elena Giuliana, your mother is leaving. Please say goodbye."

The fat tears that never left Elena's eyes made Jane feel even colder in the house than she had outside. "You're not gonna stay?" the question was raspy though it tried desperately not to be; clearly this news was a shock.

"No, baby. I gotta go," Jane snatched her up and squeezed her, begging whatever was out there to keep the two of them strong. "But I will see you on Wednesday, alright? I'm your date to basketball practice."

"Not tomorrow?" Elena whined, and at that, Maura had to excuse herself. She hustled to the bathroom, and then the two were alone.

"Nope. I had to reschedule my doctor's appointment to tomorrow, and then your Mom's taking you to violin the next day. That's on Tuesdays now, remember? You'll get the hang of it in a couple weeks," said Jane, putting her down. Elena shrugged. "Alright. Well. I love you. And I'm proud of you, kid. You keep amazin' me, everyday," Jane said, genuinely, as she ruffled her daughter's hair.

"Everyday," Elena echoed back, their routine firm in her mind.

"I'm gonna say goodbye to your Mom, then take off. What day are we seeing each other again?"

"Wednesday," the little girl sighed on a grandiose exhale.

Jane chuckled. "Wednesday. See you, Giuliana Ballgame." She waved and ducked around the corner into the hall, and sure enough, the light in the guest bathroom shone through the crack at the floor and the threshold. The fan hummed from inside. "Maura?" she called out, and at first was met with nothing. "Maura," she stated, more firmly, and then finally heard the shuffle of flats on the bathroom tile.

Shadows near the bottom of the door told her that Maura stood just on the other end of it. They stayed there for a long few moments in silence, and just breathed. "I'm gonna go now," she finally said.

"Alright, goodbye," was the quiet response on the other side.

Jane rolled her eyes. Enough was enough. "Hey." she gruffed.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I know."

"And if you insist on leaving me… _really_ insist on it?" Jane began, hands on the wood of the door. Maura waited with bated breath on the other side, picturing her detective's lips, her sharp cheekbones, her hard stare, all hallmarks of her serious tone. "I'm gonna make it hard to walk away."


	4. Cry

A/N: I thought I'd post this a day early since we got some heavy news today. Even though Rizzoli and Isles is ending and I'm a little sad about it, I think it's time. Enjoy the chapter - I really want to thank those of you who review. It makes my day, especially my friends who review every chapter. I see you, and I'm grateful for you. I'll see if I can't cook something up a little special before Season 7's end.

* * *

 _Jane marched up the small hill towards the grass near DeNorfia Elementary's front gates. Other parents had gathered there, bundled up in their sweaters during an uncharacteristically chilly February afternoon. The detective nodded to a few that she had seen before; some she recognized from Elena's class. For a moment, she contemplated making small talk, approaching one of the mothers she remembered as being particularly nice, or chatting up the Activity Supervisor about the Pats' Super Bowl win._

 _Her phone buzzed against her hip instead, saving her from choosing. It was from Korsak:_ hey kid, got address, u can come if u get back in the nxt 15. _Shit. The next message came in with the details and a picture of the property: a modest apartment building, and the guy's car out front._ How serendipitous, _she mused. She supposed they were putting a BOLO out for the car now._

 _The hunt pulsed in her arteries, charging her tissues with adrenaline and oxygen. Her eyes darted to her wristwatch about 13 times before the bells rang, and she all but shoved her way toward the school's white and green buildings when she saw kids being herded toward the front._

 _Elena Giuliana toddled along with a group of friends, her Gucci eyeglass frames and designer backpack offset by the Red Sox sweater she insisted on wearing that morning. Maura had resisted, until the girl yelled that it was the warmest sweater she owned. Her mother had reneged: it was too cold for most of the child's thinner sweaters, not cold enough for a heavy jacket. The sweatshirt would have to do, but not without a hefty glare toward Jane, as though she were the orchestrator for the whole thing._

 _The detective remembered the scene fondly, but pushed it into the back of her consciousness as she whistled at her daughter._

 _The girl waved, and Jane waved back, then beckoned her to move faster with the frantic flick of a wrist. Elena nodded, said goodbye to her three friends, and then skipped to Jane. "Where's Mommy?" she asked, taking the hand offered to her._

" _She got caught up at the station, but we're going there now. How was school today, E?" her mother responded, looking both ways before tugging her daughter into the fray of shrieking kids, teachers, and other parents. She weaved through bus lines and darted away from running children when she heard Elena's little voice escape through puffs of winded air._

" _It was good. Me and Christina looked for frogs in the bushes behind the blacktop. Did you know land frogs bury in the soil in winter? Why… why are we hurrying?" the littlest Rizzoli whined, which made Jane turn back and scoop her up._

" _Cause your Ma has an important case at work, and she needs to get back so she can help your Uncle Frankie and Uncle Vince," she said. Her daughter squirmed, pushing against strong Sicilian shoulders in an attempt to see her surroundings. "I know you're gettin' big for this, Ballgame, but I gotta get us to the car."_

" _So you can catch bad guys?"_

" _So I can catch bad guys."_

* * *

"For Rizzoli?" A woman in a charcoal pencil skirt and purple turtleneck called from behind a counter in the dark office. There was a waiting area filled with padded chairs, magazines filed neatly on end tables. Jane had been reading a day-old newspaper, taking a little pleasure in a luxury she hadn't allowed herself in eight months - Maura had kept the subscription to several newspapers for her when they had lived together, and none of them had followed her to her studio apartment a few blocks away from the station.

At the sound of her name, Jane shot up from her seat; she cursed when the toe of her boot slammed into a chair. Shaking off as much residual nervousness as she could, still fresh even six months after her first visit to Dr. Amelia Harley, she walked over to the counter and smiled brightly, professionally at the woman who called her.

The woman, as she had for the last six months, blushed at the attention. "Hi, Detective," she grinned back, "can you verify your address? We got some return mail last week and want to make sure everything's updated."

Jane exhaled in a whoosh of relief. "Yeah. Mailman at my building is a tool. I called a uniform on him because he keeps parking in my disabled neighbor's space - must be revenge," she rolled her eyes, and Rita, the receptionist, chuckled good-naturedly.

"Sounds like a hassle," she returned. "So if you could just initial here and here, I can give you your mail. Nothing too important, but there are some pamphlets that the Doctor wanted you to have." Jane took the clipboard from her and fired off a few _JCRs_ , grabbing the envelope when it was offered to her. "She'll call you in in a few minutes, ok?"

"Thanks, Jennifer," Jane nodded, and returned to her seat, glancing at the few other souls waiting for their therapists. One, a man in his late sixties, had just lost his wife. Another, a woman barely over twenty, was battling depression. Sometimes the patients got to talking when the doctors weren't around, and though Jane would probably have denied it, getting to know her fellow shrunken heads had eased the embarrassment she'd felt when she first walked through the heavy oak door.

And of course Maura had suggested a therapist who practiced in such opulence. Everything on the second floor looked like it cost a hefty sum, and that certainly hadn't helped Jane feel more relaxed. Maura's money was one thing, but the money of strangers kept her off kilter, even 42 years into life.

However, Dr. Harley's demeanor could not be more contradictory to her possessions. She came out into the waiting area as Jane pondered it all, and waved her into the back hall towards her office. She was a tall, thin woman, skin around her eyes crinkling and her hair graying. She kept it clipped loosely behind her back with a simple bang in front, and her flowy dress was cinched at her waist by a belt.

This was the Dr. Harley to whom Jane had bared her soul in the last few months of her life, someone she might have scoffed at before then: someone with a caring and relaxed demeanor, someone who championed the expression, rather than the repression, of feelings. Now she followed her into the room she spent more time in than her family's home.

"How is life, Jane?" asked Dr. Harley as they both took their spots in leather-backed chairs. She held her hallmark legal pad on her lap, and nursed a hot cup of tea. _Gets me through the afternoon drag_ , she had told her patient the first time they met, and Jane confessed that all she could think about was the giant coffee she had promised herself after the session. Now it was a rare day that either of them did not have a beverage on hand. Today was one of those days.

"It's… It's life," the detective said, hands empty of her usual Boston Joe's. Her sigh and pained smile were noted. "I guess there are good parts, and not so good parts."

"Isn't that the truth," Dr. Harley responded, face tightened in sympathy. "Now, I gave you some homework for the last week. How have you been doing with that?"

"The counting? Good. I've been a lot better, I think. Every time I get mad, I start backwards from ten, just like you said. There's less yelling," Jane said with an awkward chuckle. "Sometimes it's hard," she added.

"Breaking ingrained habits is always hard. When is it harder?"

"When things involve my kid," Jane answered instantly; her knee was bobbing up and down already. Her therapist smiled quietly to herself, at the nervous Rizzoli energy that seeped out in a thousand little ways. Dr. Harley tossed Jane a stress ball and watched the appendage quiet itself.

"Can you give me an example?"

"When Maura told me that she didn't want Elena getting the wrong idea about us from me fixing the plumbing," Jane all but growled.

"And the counting didn't help you then?"

"No, it did. I barked at her, but then I remembered the techniques. It didn't escalate into a full blown war like it used to. Still made me mad, but… I don't know. Not explosive, you know?"

"Well, I would say that's progress. But you still think she was in the wrong?"

Jane narrowed her gaze. "Yeah. I absolutely do."

"And why is that?" Dr. Harley was jotting with fervor now.

"Because that's bullshit, Doc. Me fixing a leaky shower arm is not going to make Elena think I'm coming home."

"I see. It sounds like what you're saying is that your daughter won't take your work on the house as a sign that you and Maura are getting back together," Dr. Harley offered.

"Right. She's a smart kid."

"From what you've told me, I'd say that's very true. But why do you think that Maura has that point of view on the situation?"

Jane sat in silence for one beat, two beats, three. "Honestly, if I could be in her head half the time, I probably wouldn't be in this chair. Maybe she thinks that because I used to do all that stuff when we… weren't separated, Elena would equate that with us getting back together," she thought aloud. She quieted herself again, this time for two long minutes. "Maybe she's using Elena as an excuse because she's afraid to be around me."

"And why would she be afraid?"

"She loves me still, I'm pretty sure. I'm… I'm also pretty sure that she doesn't want to anymore," said Jane. She rubbed her face with her hands and sniffed loudly. "So she doesn't want me too close, maybe. Doesn't want to feel weak," She stopped then, epiphany on her features, followed by dread. She looked up, as though waiting for confirmation.

When Dr. Harley made eye contact with her, she continued, stress ball thoroughly deformed. "I may have fucked up."

This made Dr. Harley straighten up in her chair and put her legal pad on the side table next to her tea. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, I think I may have pushed her too hard too fast. And now I don't know if I scared her away for good."

"What makes you think you scared her away?"

"Last night I was over, filling out some paperwork for Elena's grade skip, and she got upset."

"Upset over what?"

"I think maybe just sad. I don't know. I told Elena goodbye and she ran to the bathroom. She does that when she's upset and doesn't want anybody to see. Things were pretty intense before that, and I told her… well. Basically I told her I wasn't gonna let her leave me so easily. That I was going to make it so that she wouldn't want to."

"And you think that this scared her away because it was too forceful."

"I don't know, Doc, maybe. She used to like it. Who knows now."

* * *

"You remember when that baby absolutely _refused_ to sleep if she thought any adults were awake? Now she's out like a light at 8 on the dot. Every night," Angela chuckled to herself as she tucked her feet up under her legs. She and Maura sat on the couch after having put Elena to sleep, and shared some company and hot chocolate.

"I try to keep her busy," Maura commented. She sipped her chocolate and crossed her ankles, work clothes still on her body.

"I'd say it's working. Does she still wake you up in the middle of the night?"

"No," Maura smiled fondly at the memory of her daughter knocking softly on their bedroom door, wanting milk, yet still too afraid to get it without permission. "Not recently, at least."

"Sleeps straight through the night now, huh? You're lucky."

"Actually, it's funny how much she sleeps like Jane. Like the dead, when she finally falls."

"You seen how much energy those two burn through in a day? It's no surprise. I was afraid Jane was going to die at 40 when she was having all those nightmares, all those sleepless nights," the older woman said. Oh how things had changed. Maura felt the statement in her heart, knowing that Jane's soundly-sleeping days had come to an end - one need only look to the bags under her eyes every morning. "Speaking of Janie," Angela started, her face wary and almost wincing, "she fix the upstairs tub yet?"

Maura pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. "She said she's going to tomorrow. I didn't tell you she was fixing it. Did she?"

The Rizzoli matriarch did a little wiggle with her eyebrows. "No. Call it a mother's intuition. Also the guy you called, Andrew Riverton, is a hack. His father worked with Frank a few times; he was terrible."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Maura gasped, scandalized.

"Because then you would have just called someone else," Angela shrugged.

"And this would be bad because?"

"Because, even though you are the mother of my grandchild and practically one of my own, baby, Jane is my firstborn. It hurt her that you called someone else to come look at it. I knew that if you called Andrew, you'd need a new plumber soon, and I know my daughter. If she stepped foot in this house, she'd be looking at the tub sooner rather than later."

Maura scowled, but couldn't help the sadness clawing its way into the corners of her mandible. She swallowed to stabilize it. "I have the right to seek out whomever I want to fix the structural issues of my house," she nearly whispered.

Angela felt pity then. "Oh, sweetie, I know. Of course you do. I just know how bad Jane wants to be able to do those things for Elena. And for you," she consoled. Maura let her take her hand.

They sat there together for twenty minutes, and Maura let herself be gathered up into a one-armed hug. The ticking of the giant clock in the hall punctuated their stable breaths, and their drinks cooled, forgotten on the coffee table.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Maura confessed quietly. Her throat was wet with tears, and so was the shoulder of Angela's sweater.

"Punishing Jane, honey. That's what you're doing," Angela answered.

Maura tensed. Punish was the perfect term, and it gave her a shameful sort of pleasure. "Perhaps it's not that simple."

"Plain _and_ simple," her mother-in-law reiterated.

"You don't think she deserves it?" it was a weak attempt at making herself feel better, but she did it anyway.

"Of course she deserves it. She's hard-headed and she doesn't listen and maybe that's fine when it's just her life on the line, but she has a family to think about now."

Maura nodded, satisfied that at least one Rizzoli seemed to understand.

Angela's next words, however, chilled her with second-guesses. "Just… maybe this isn't the best way to do it."


	5. Birds of Prey

A/N: on my tumblr, which can be found on my profile page here, there is a link to the playlist of songs that inspired each chapter. I do hope you give it a listen. Thank you for all your reviews. It still baffles me that so many of you take time out of your day to read what I've written and comment on it. You are the best.

* * *

" _You'd think parking by the exit would let us get out faster, huh, Ballgame?" Jane commented, knuckles white on the steering wheel of her cruiser. She had contemplated throwing the bubble light on the roof, but then the traffic finally started to move._

" _That took a lot of minutes," Elena said, looking at the digital clock on the dash._

" _Yeah no kidding. Ten of 'em. That's a minute for every foot from our spot to the stop sign," said the detective. She patted her daughter's knee as they left DeNorfia Elementary's parking lot and lurched onto the road, and Elena held her hand in place with her own tiny ones._

 _Jane's heart was pounding from the stress of traffic, and the show of affection soothed her. Elena Giuliana had seen Maura do the same thousands of times, and must have figured now was her turn. "Can we get some Boston Joe's?" she asked simply, distractedly, as though her favorite hot chocolate was only an afterthought._

" _Not today, kid. I gotta get back to the station, remember?" Jane replied. She pulled the wheel toward her to finish a left turn._

" _Ok," Elena relented easily enough. The chirp of her mother's phone bounced around in the cab, and she removed her hands so that it could be answered._

" _Rizzoli," Jane said as she stuck the phone in her hands-free dock._

" _Jane!" Frankie's voice rang out; he sounded breathless. She heard Korsak shuffling at his desk; Frankie must have been standing over him._

" _Yeah, what's up?" she answered, her chest lurching, but her voice steady._

" _We put out a BOLO out on his car and were about to go to his apartment, but while you were gone we got a call from Mrs. Perez's sister, saying somebody had left her a cryptic-ass voicemail. Apparently the guy said that he was sorry but he had to take everything back to the round. After that she could make her sister's funeral arrangements in peace."_

" _The round? What the hell?" Jane said, and Elena's ears perked up._

" _Yeah we're running some stuff now, trying to figure out what that might mean," Frankie replied._

 _Suddenly, Jane broke into a cold sweat. "God, I know what he means."_

 _There was a heavy silence. "And?" Frankie asked._

" _The building where they worked at was off a roundabout. Employees called it 'the round' in our interviews."_

" _Janie, you're a genius! Ok we're on our way there. We're like seven minutes out."_

" _Shit." this definitely got the young girl's attention. The bubble light came out then, and Jane slammed it onto the car's roof._

" _What?" Korsak and Frankie said in unison, their voices high with concern._

" _I'm about 3 minutes away," Jane said through gritted teeth._

" _But you got your kid with you, and no back up. Wait for us to get there, Sis," Frankie replied, his tone falling._

" _You know I can't do that, Frankie," she said, speeding through lights and backstreets. "Christ. I'm gonna go in, and she'll be in the car. You get to her AS SOON AS YOU GET THERE, you hear me?"_

" _But Jane…"_

" _Frankie! That woman is gonna die!"_

" _alright, alright!" He acquiesced, knowing he wouldn't change her mind. "We'll get her as soon as we get there."_

" _Good," she said as she hung up. She turned to her daughter, now sweating with adrenaline and fear. It made two of them. "Baby, I gotta go to a scene. You remember the duck and hide we practiced?"_

* * *

Maura loved to listen to her daughter play music. Granted, the simple scales she heard in the other room now sounded raw, but in them she felt the promise of a bright future. This was Elena Giuliana's sixth month of the violin, and she worked hard.

In Elena, Jane's nature now received the benefit of Maura's nurture, thus it was no surprise how quickly the girl had taken to everything that came easy to her. But music? Music did not come easy. She struggled. At first, when she had come out of the practice room, near tears, Maura had wanted to run to her, to soothe her and tell her that she never needed to set foot in _Shaughnessy's Music Studio_ again if she didn't want to. However, the rise and fall in frequency with each note played represented the peak and valleys of the young one's experience - better now to falter during the algebra than to implode during the calculus, Maura decided. She would stick it out.

And, if Maura were being honest with herself as she sat there against the wall with an old tabloid in her hands, she wanted Elena to have as many of her wife's traits as possible. True struggle, safe struggle, such as failure with her violin teacher, would make her strong, resilient, like Jane, but without so much scarring. Maura's strengths were in science, in the persistent pursuit of the truth, in the gentle manipulation of the Rizzoli spirit. These were Elena's strengths as well, but Maura saw it fit to make her as much a blend as the two of them as she could be, separation notwithstanding.

So, she took heart in the repetitious ascent of Hertz, up and down, up and down, and counted them as drills to build character. And when Elena would emerge, looking weary and sometimes defeated, she would be there to gather her up and tend to her bruises, trusting the process.

"Dr. Rizzoli?" a young man with a shaved head and manicured goatee called for her, poking out from the room he and her daughter populated. She nodded to him and rose, waving at Elena from behind the glass door.

Kenny Renteria took over his mother's violin lessons after she had retired, and he was part of the reason Maura trusted Elena to persevere. He had kind brown eyes and a smile that tended to set people at ease. He was built, with a broad back and thick arms, but his demeanor dismantled any misgivings his physique might induce. He stood in front of Maura now, their height level because of her heels, in a dress shirt and lilac tie.

"How is she doing, Kenny?" Maura asked. She put a hand on his bicep encouragingly.

"She's progressing well," he said. "Leaps and bounds better than last month. She still needs to practice, but she's definitely making headway."

"Perfect. And morale?"

"She's getting more headstrong every time I see her. And she's growing like a weed! What are you feeding her?!" he laughed.

Maura laughed in turn. "I can't speak for the the donor's side, but Jane's family are all long bones and defined musculature."

He smiled as they both looked back to the little girl packing away her sheet music. "I had always assumed that she was yours, given her smarts," he commented.

"Biologically?" Maura asked and he nodded. "Well, between the dangers of Jane's job and my inability to get pregnant, we decided it would be best if I carried and she contributed. So I suppose she is as much "mine" as she is Jane's."

Kenny blushed, still somewhat unused to Maura's candor. "No doubt," he replied. "Well, she's all ready to go, and they'll take payment up at the front, as always."

Maura thanked him and waited for Elena as he held the door open. Immediately the little girl took her hand. "How was it, Elena?"

"Ok I guess," she said. She sounded tired, but not broken, as she accepted Maura's warm side-hug. Her mother counted it as a small victory as they approached the reception desk.

"Well, you should be very proud of yourself. You've completed six months of lessons, and Kenny says that you've made wonderful progress," Maura said, letting go of Elena's hand so that she could pull out her checkbook. The private smile that graced her daughter's face did not go unnoticed.

"Hello, Dr. Rizzoli," Katherine, the receptionist said. "Would you like to continue your six-month payment plan, or being paying month-to-month?"

Maura looked at Elena fondly, noting her tired, but very much well-adjusted, expression. "I'll pay for the next six months now, Katherine. My daughter seems to be enjoying her time here."

* * *

"Hey Baby, hand me that wire brush, would ya?" Jane asked Elena, who sat on the lip of the tub while her mother worked. The Detective wore an old BPD t shirt and jeans, while her daughter, having gone to a violin lesson from 5 to 6, was still in a tasteful black dress, though she was barefoot.

Elena gave the brush to Jane, and then took her seat. "What's that for?"

"Well," Jane started, thinking of the best way to explain. "The metal bristles brush away the old joint compound here. See that putty lookin' stuff?" she held the shower arm out for her daughter to see, and pointed to the cracking and brittle compound caked around it.

"Yeah?"

"That's there to keep the arm connected to the elbow."

"Like a person?"

"Yeah, sorta like a person. But this arm is _supposed_ come off," Jane winked, and Elena giggled. The older Rizzoli brushed away the old joint compound, and the younger swung her legs in a pendulum motion.

"Ma, how come I have to learn how to play the violin?" The question came out of left field, and it took Jane a moment to respond.

"It's good for ya, E. Learning how to read music makes you think differently than sports, or school. Makes you more well-rounded. It's a skill that teaches you discipline and how to be consistently creative. How do you think I got to be so smart?" she finally said, proud of an answer she thought Maura would approve of.

"You learned the violin?" Elena asked. She stopped swinging long enough to look astonished.

"Nah, the piano."

"How come you don't play anymore?"

Jane held up her hands so that the scars were visible. "Can't. Fingers aren't as flexible as they used to be. Wish I could." there was a whole host of other reasons, but that one would do.

"Because of the accident?"

"Because of the accident," the incident with Hoyt had not been explained to Elena, and it wouldn't be for a very long time. They simply referred to it as an accident Jane suffered at work, because of her carelessness and the mean streak of a real bad guy.

The both of them turned around when they smelled Maura's perfume breeze into the bathroom. "It's about your bed time, Elena Giuliana," she said when she entered their line of sight, and she leaned against the doorframe to steady her weak knees - she had been listening to the two of them for a while.

"I can't stay up?" The girl said, her voice already in the shape of a plea. "Just till Ma finishes?"

"I'm gonna be here a long time, Ballgame, because I gotta put the grate on that nice big hole in the wall the plumber left us. Go to bed," Jane answered, standing to let her pass through the doorway. Her hand was on the small of her wife's back instinctively as Elena walked from the bathroom into the bedroom, and the two adults hovered in the doorway as they spoke.

Maura looked at her in thanks for the cooperation, and didn't move away from the touch. Instead their eyes held until she had to cave under the heat. "She's right. Besides, the two of you will see each other tomorrow."

"Ok," the little girl huffed.

Jane pushed through and knelt to be eye level with her. "Right after I get off work, ok? Basketball practice. I'll pick you up here, at _Nanna's_." She received a hug in response, and she hugged back, a tight squeeze. "Good night. I love you."

"Love you too," her daughter said, walking out into the hall to get ready for bed.

Maura started to follow her. "I'm just going to go make sure she gets in bed. I'll be back to help if you need it," she said in a voice that made Jane hungry for the past, a voice that she would have taken comfort in if they had still lived under the same roof. Now it hollowed her out, made her long for the way Maura once loved her.

"Yeah," Jane acknowledged, nodding her off. She dared not say that she needed no help, or that the job would not take her long. Instead, she dragged her feet when she went to pick up the Teflon plumber's tape, and polished the metal with her cloth.


	6. Take Me (As You Found Me)

A/N: Things get a little more complicated. I'm grateful for all of you letting me know what you think for each chapter.

* * *

 _Frankie Rizzoli Jr. hated the moments before a huge bust - he always felt nauseated and isolated. Jane loved them, and she thrived on them. He always trusted her to make the right decisions when lives were on the line, because she knew just how time and sacrifice and justice operated in chaos; it was her opus to toe the edge and come back every time._

 _This time, however, he was unsure. This time, he could not put his trust in her completely. The elevator he rode with Korsak at his side lurched when its doors closed, and the tiny space racheted up his anxiety tenfold. He felt trapped, like his hands were tied, and it aligned too much with what he had to contend with outside its doors._

 _Jane had just endangered the life of his niece, her daughter, to save the life of a stranger._

 _Where was that Rizzoli blood? Why wasn't it boiling with the need to protect her own above all else? Most importantly, why was he thinking all these things and she seemingly was not?_

 _It was Jane's blessing and curse, to be so wrapped up in the cause. It blinded her to a lot of things. Not to the right decisions, but definitely to the feelings and attitudes of others. When Frankie looked over to Sergeant Korsak, he could see the same concerns tattooed on his sweating face._ Ding _. They descended a floor. The doors opened for a few of the women from administration, no doubt going on a late lunch since things had been so hectic after the turn of the new year. They had no idea what Jane was up to, the decision she had just made._

 _The seismic catastrophe brewing._

 _Finally, after what felt like hours, they all reached the lobby of the Boston Police Department. Life resumed as usual, with guests checking in at the front desk, uniforms taking their coffee breaks in the cafe his mother used to run. Stanley had even put in an old TV, and ESPN ran 24/7. If only that were his life right now._

 _He and Korsak bolted through the moving doors as soon as the two women from admin stepped out, and as they ran, none other than Maura Rizzoli entered the station doors. She froze when she saw them, access badge still in hand._

" _Did you find your suspect?!" She asked, breathless at the sight of them, anxious and excited for them all at once._

" _Yeah!" Frankie shouted, not bothering to stop as he grabbed her arm and pulled her along. "And Janie's on her way there now. Get in the car!"_

—

" _OK, Elena, look at me," Jane said, her daughter now in the back seat of her cruiser on the floor. "I'm gonna go into the trunk, get my Kevlar, and get you a blanket to cover yourself with. Just for five minutes, until Uncle Frankie gets here to pick you up, ok? Under no circumstances, absolutely NONE, are you to leave this vehicle until then, a'right?" She furrowed her brow into a hard line, one that meant business._

 _Elena nodded slowly._

 _Jane did as she said she would, hurrying to the trunk to shove her bulletproof vest on, and grabbing a blanket that matched her car's gray interior. She tossed it to her daughter, who put it over her body, and then knelt down and kissed the child. "I love you, E._ Chi lu signuri ti binidica," _she offered up a quick Sicilian adage, emotion coloring her voice._

" _Love you too, Ma," Elena responded, grasping at her mother's face with a sudden dread, a sudden desire to see her stay. "_ chi lu signuri ti binidica."

 _Jane tore herself away, playing the image of Mrs. Perez terrified and wounded in her mind to bolster her, and stalked toward the front door. She cleared it, firearm drawn and ready, when she heard frantic whispering beyond the remnants of an old security desk._

 _Row by row, she cleared deserted cubicles and various pieces of office furniture. The whispering grew louder as she walked towards a huge wall of windows, the only source of light in the abandoned SolCorp office, and whimpers, ones she recognized as gagged, became interspersed with each crunch of boot on carpet._

 _Her heart rammed into her lungs, which rattled her ribcage something fierce. In just a few steps, she would be face to face with the man they had been hunting, and the woman they had been trying so desperately to rescue._

 _Lives hung in the balance._

 _She prepared to speak her presence; she opened her mouth to order him to put his hands in the air, but the force of a freight train slammed into her right shoulder before any of that could happen. She locked eyes with Michael Hermann as she slammed into a filing cabinet, bullet lodged in her vest._

" _You can't interfere until this is done," he sobbed, the sweat staining his polo shirt and running from his temple. Mrs. Perez was on her knees, bound and gagged presumably at the desk where she had worked not far from her husband._

" _Mmm, hey, Michael," grunted Jane as she willed herself not to see double, "give it up. You got the prick who brought this company down. Why you need her, too?"_

 _He blinked rapidly, but his grip on his gun seemed to waver. He looked almost imperceptibly calmer at Jane's manipulation. "She helped him. She helped him embezzle the money that cost me and eventually everyone our jobs."_

" _Do you know that?" Jane wheezed on cue, even though she was beginning to regain feeling in her arm. Her gun still dangled at her side, as though it were an afterthought. "You're bein' the asshole that Perez was. Don't. Just let her go."_

" _I'm not!" Hermann shrieked, moving his gun toward her again. That split second was the only time she needed to send two slugs into his heart._

—

 _When Korsak peeled into the side parking lot where Jane's car sat, he, Frankie, and Maura held their breaths. He threw the cruiser into park, and they all spilled out - Frankie and Maura ran to the car, he cleared the immediate area._

 _Two shots rang out from inside the building, and Maura nearly heaved her lunch onto the pavement. She watched Frankie pull the back door open on the driver's side, a smile gracing his face at the fact they had arrived to the Crown Vic intact and there was indeed a blanket crumpled on the cab's floor. However, when he called her daughter's name and pulled the blanket away, he collapsed to his knees._

" _Elena!" He shouted, darting his eyes around their vicinity. Maura shoved him out of the way, as though she had to see it to believe it._

" _Fuck," she seethed, tears already falling. "Elena!" she shrieked, running to check the trunk. She pulled the lever and cursed at all the crap inside, seemingly everything she could want except her only child. She slammed the lid, pounding her fists on it, when Frankie got up and started for the side door of SolCorp, following Korsak's lead._

* * *

"How'd it go?" Jane asked when she heard Maura approaching. She sat at the hole that the old plumber had made in the wet wall, using a jab saw to cut a larger square for the access panel she intended to install.

Maura watched her struggle with the drywall, her biceps covered in sweat and residue from the project, and minutes passed this way.

"Earth to Maura," Jane chuckled as she stood, reaching behind her wife for the softline panel to test the opening she'd made.

"Huh?" Replied Maura, rather uncharacteristically, when she caught Jane's scent. She'd forgotten how potent the combination of perfume, perspiration, and handiwork could be.

"How'd it go with Elena? Putting her to bed. You were gone long enough for me to finish taping the shower," Jane repeated. She kneeled and eased the hardware into the hole with care, smirking in victory when it slid perfectly into place.

"It was fine. As soon as she hit the pillow, she was out," Maura breathed, finally. "You're doing an excellent job."

"I get it right the first time, every time," Jane replied with a wink. She removed the panel, reached behind Maura again, and grabbed two pieces of lumber to inspect against the wall studs. "It's done, I just need to reinforce the access panel so we can cover up the hole. Miter Saw still in the garage?"

"Yes, my love," Maura said, before she even really realized she was speaking. It happened as an afterthought. The term was a visceral memory from times long gone, the way it wisped around in the doctor's head any and every time Jane was around. Before Jane was cast out of their home, she was _baby, my love, sweetheart_. Now she simply was - her existence too complicated to amass any other name out loud. The fact that the pet name slipped out signaled something Maura wasn't quite ready to face.

Jane was already on her way out, swagger in her step, until she heard it. She stopped, without turning around, as she too sensed the delicate position they had just entered.

"I'm… I'm sorry. It's a force of habit, Jane," the doctor explained, quick to recover. She willed the taller woman just to forget about it, to let it go, but she had no such luck. Jane remained. _And in those damn blue jeans…._

"I, uh… I'm gonna be honest, Maura," the detective started, "and I'm not gonna turn around, because I know it'll make you uncomfortable. The last thing I want, the last thing I ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable around me. But, that's bullshit. You haven't called me anything but Jane for the last eight months."

"Jane-" Maura started, touched by the sincerity in her voice and the courtesy of her turned back, but truly unsteady because of the heat suffusing her skin. It was then that she realized exactly what that somethingbrewing was.

"And hang on, I ain't finished," Jane continued, plowing through. "I know it was messed up of me to go after you the other night when you needed time-"

"Jane-"

"And I understand now that stuff like that isn't how you communicate. Maybe you liked it about me before, but not now. Now I need to be more patient, and not so in-your-face."

"Jane!" Maura said, her arms crossed and her lips pursed. It was a comical sight, the two of them, she staring straight at her wife's back, her wife staring straight into the soft glow illuminating what used to be their bedroom, neither looking at each other's face but both so desperately wishing to.

"Yeah?" Jane replied, so soft that Maura might not have heard it if she wasn't waiting for it.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah."

"Turn around."

Jane did as told, her shoulders slumping. Maura stalked over to her, with a determined face - open, predatory, angry, and wanting - it caused Jane to drop the lumber in her hand to the ground.

Maura kissed her, in a way that she had never kissed her before. Jane was pushed up against the doorframe, her tongue grabbed between teeth, and her lips assaulted. In the few seconds that she did not kiss back, she wondered if it were life-threatening.

But then, she _did_ kiss back. She grabbed Maura's ass to anchor herself, and pushed away from the doorway, providing a soft, supple apology for every angry, lustful bite that she received. With each row of her lips into Maura's, she felt lost in the new and yet, painfully wanting it as well, the part of this encounter that was novel between them.

Some parts were not so novel, however, and it was Maura who recognized the pattern that had undone her for years - Jane started timidly, exploratorily, in the way her lips held Maura's against them. Then the kiss grew stronger, wetter, as they started to move together. Finally, she, in a heart-stopping, panty-dropping move, added the tiniest suck, just enough for Maura to gasp, and then her tongue swooped in.

It was as though Maura's mouth were being courted, and Jane's tongue sliding in, apex first, only to plunge forward, was the sweet conclusion.

"Jesus," Maura had to curse as she broke them apart. The intimacy overwhelmed her. She ached between her legs.

"Maura," Jane begged, her voice hoarse, a one word plea that beckoned her wife to return.

She did not, but used her hand to push Jane back against the doorway by the chest. She knelt down, fingers playing a warning tune against those jeans.

"C'mon, come back up here," Jane tried again. Her hands grasped at Maura's homey cardigan, but she refused to be pulled up.

Maura pretty much refused anything but the three clicks of Jane's belt buckle, loosened by her hand. She kissed the skin that lay just under a t-shirt's hem, and it was salty when she licked it. Jane shivered and the flesh under her skin rippled, and Maura thought that she herself might come in that moment - clothes on and bodies all but apart.

Quite simply, she missed Jane's musculature the most. More specifically, when she laid in bed alone, she missed the way it felt on top of her skin, and she missed the way that at any moment, her hands could veer left or dip right to find taut muscle. She missed what it meant for her family; to share the helm with someone so capable and so strong, to provide braun to go with her exceptional brains.

They really had been the perfect pair.

She mourned this as she pulled her wife's jeans and boy shorts away just enough to lap her tongue where she had so many times before. "Fuck," Jane breathed in response, her hand shooting to the top of Maura's head to stabilize herself. She looked down with a snarl, frustrated with her body's insistent devolution into a mass of twitches and sharp inhales.

Maura moved in a steady, killer rhythm. Jane closed her eyes to stave off the inevitable. They both shuddered with the familiarity of the muttered cussing and the pervasive smell of sex. Jane widened her stance then, so that Maura's tongue and two fingers could reach more of her, and her other hand moved from the wall to honey hair in order to further guide that mouth.

Maura would not look up; she only buried herself further into the task at hand. Eight months it had been since she'd touched someone like this, since she'd touched Jane like this, and she feared that if she caught those brown eyes, she would lose control.

Jane didn't fear that loss, however. She made no qualms about groaning when orgasm burst low between her hips and careened upward through her veins, just as she made no qualms about most anything. "Get up, Maura," she growled when she had regained most of her breath, not waiting for an affirmative before she tugged the woman to her feet.

They kissed again, but this time, Jane did no asking, no sweet testing of the waters. She picked Maura up, gestured for those slim runner's legs to wrap around her waist, and then carried her to the counter at the far end of the bathroom.

Maura hissed when she was dropped onto the granite, but moaned when Jane made quick work of her black slacks. She bit her lower lip, worried at it between her teeth when her wife tore away her thong made heavy with moisture, scared of what might befall her, but Jane remained ever valiant, never untruthful.

"You want me inside?" the detective asked, her eyes begging Maura to say yes, the way her body fit in between Maura's legs begging her to say yes, but the hands on soft hips were in line with her previous sentiment: _I am more patient, less in-your-face. I am trying to change. I am content to honor your no._

Maura thought back to Angela's word for it all - punishment. It fit her heart exactly, and in the heat of the moment, she decided she needed pettiness more than to feel all the emotions that would come with Jane finding a home inside of her. "I want your mouth on me," she ordered, and though it wasn't what she wanted most to hear, Detective Rizzoli slunk down to bury her face into what was wet and waiting for her.

" _My god_ …" Maura practically sang. She felt Jane tattoo a smug grin on her skin, and if she was all consistency, Jane was all speed.

Devastating, decadent speed. She felt herself slipping off of the edge of the counter with each lick, but just when she was convinced that she would fall, Jane's hands held her steady, in place - it sent her over the edge. Her thighs gripped her wife's head so hard she felt sorry, and when her climax finally loosened its grip on her, she ran her hand over the raven hair between them.

Jane seemed unfazed as she rose up. Her hands stayed put, thumbs running circles over heated thighs, and their mouths all but touched.

In another life, Maura would have partook in the cocktail of sweat and herself on Jane's lips.

"I got you, Maura," Jane said, leaning in for a kiss, "I always got you. Let me take you to bed."

A finger stopped her mouth from moving any closer. Her heart lurched, but she kissed the fingertip anyway.

"This… this was a bad idea, Jane," Maura said, trying so hard not to nuzzle close to her detective, as she would have, as she did, countless other times. "It was a bad idea and it should never happen again."

"You and I together is never a bad idea, Maura," Jane responded. When her wife opened her mouth to protest, however, she spoke again. "Maybe a little premature. Maybe a little too rushed for my tastes. But you and I? It will never be the wrong choice."

Maura sighed. In her eyes was a war, but the palms to Jane's shoulders said that the war was already won. They pushed gently, but surely. Those battlefield pupils looked down to the Jane's open fly, wistful for all the times she had seen it in better circumstances, lustful for everything that it implied. However, her avoidance of eye contact was a clear signal for Jane to let go.

She did. "Ok. Well, let me just finish this up, then," she said, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "I'll try not to take too long."

Maura grabbed her, fistfuls of BPD tee in her hands. "No, no. Go get some sleep. You can finish up tomorrow when you bring Elena back."

"Maura-"

"Go home, Jane. I'll see you tomorrow."

Jane didn't have the heart to tell her that she _was_ home.

* * *

When midnight rolled around, Maura gave up on her bed. Having her own space was supposed to be a reprieve, a place to escape from the emotional tumult of the outside world, the world that contained Jane and all remnants of her. Stupidly, she believed that if she redecorated and redressed the master bed, there would be no traces of the woman there, either.

This was an egregious error.

Her plan had failed, especially now, when she felt the Detective on her body, hours after they had sex. Jane no longer infused just the four walls around her, but infiltrated her being. Needless to say, her last resort for sleep had slipped away.

It was then that she thought about Elena, how enamored she was with Jane. How she let her mother invade her heart with no protest, how she saw all of Jane, because there was no doubt that she saw all of her, and loved her anyway. Her daughter was a better person than she was at the moment, all forgiveness and Rizzoli loyalty, and she needed that for herself. The need was so strong that it possessed her to get up and throw the covers away: the night air was frigid on her toes, and when she threw on her robe, she switched the thermostat on.

The heater hummed to life, and she hoped that at least Elena would rest easier with it on, even if she herself could not. When Maura reached the end of the hall, the door to her daughter's room, she suddenly felt fear and guilt creep up her throat. To steady herself, she put her hands and her forehead against the strong wood, and took a calming breath.

It didn't really help. _How am I supposed to look you in the eye, my love, when you wanted your mother to stay so badly, and I'm the one who keeps sending her away?_ She thought as she let a few teardrops fall. When she regained a modicum of control, she pushed her away inside the room. Warm air encircled her as she stepped freely toward the bed, and in this way Elena was Maura's carbon copy: everything in her room was neat, put away, and labeled. Even her tiny furniture needed to be polished, to be pushed back into its proper place, and her bed could only be occupied in such and such way by so many people at a time. Jane managed with these stringent, child-imposed rules as best she could, but for Maura, it was old hat.

Which is why she surprised herself when she lowered her body to the twin bed to wrap around her daughter and inhale in the spot where her neck met her skull, despite the fact that Elena preferred to sleep alone, always had. She was doubly shocked when she felt herself sob uncontrollably with her slumbering child in her arms, a child who was none the wiser to it all when she turned in her sleep to nuzzle closer to her mother's chest.


	7. Blind Interlude

A/N: All of you who read and review are my faves. This is kind of like a transition chapter.

* * *

 _Maura sprinted after Frankie, intent on being there to see whatever awaited them, when she heard Korsak from what sounded like around the corner._

" _Maura! Frankie!" She's over here!" His deep Boston voice called out, and when they turned toward the door, they saw him, with Elena's hand in his, standing and waiting for them._

 _Frankie gathered her up in his arms and swung her, kissing her so loudly and so wetly that she actually yelled at him to stop. The navy blue of her Red Sox sweatshirt matched his kevlar as though they were cut from the same cloth, and that pushed Maura to breaking._

" _I've got her, go do your jobs!" She spat, grabbing her daughter from her brother-in-law and pressing her as close as possible. He recoiled, unnerved by the hate in her eyes, but she could not be bothered to care._

 _When he remembered that Jane was inside, and she might be injured, he followed Korsak in. Maura's look, however, would never leave his mind._

" _Mommy, what's happening?" Elena Giuliana cried, the stress of seeing all the adults in her life in chaos finally getting to her. Maura spun her and checked her roughly for injuries, palpating and pressing with both speed and accuracy._

" _Oh Elena," the woman sobbed when she was convinced the girl was free of at least life-threatening wounds, "Are you alright, baby girl?"_

 _Elena nodded in response, putting no trust in her voice, the one she hated the sound of when she cried. This incited riotous flames in Maura's brain. Her protectiveness steered into overdrive, and she clung to her child again. But when the three detectives exited the same door they came from, Korsak and Frankie holding up Mrs. Perez, and Jane walking behind them on her own with her shoulder slightly askew, she pounced._

 _Her open palm made quick work of Jane's cheek, and the resounding hollow_ schwak! _startled all of them. Elena shrieked and Jane nearly stumbled to her knees._

" _Ah Maura what the hell?!" Jane yelled, fishing around the inside of her mouth for any loose teeth. If she had found any, they would have been the least of her worries._

" _I understand you have some sick compulsion to be a hero at all times, and hey, maybe I don't have room to complain since I married you. But how DARE you endanger my daughter's life in the process!" Maura responded and the harsh twang of her vocal cords bounced in the industrial complex as a booming accompaniment to the next slap to Jane's face._

" _No!" their daughter screamed, watching everything unfold. Tears rolled in fat, wet drops down her red cheeks. She balled her little fists, as though she might bolt at any moment._

 _Korsak dragged Mrs. Perez away to call for an ambulance and get a statement, and that left Frankie, who grabbed Maura's arms gently. "Hey oh hey, Maura," was all he said, feeling unqualified to say anything else._

" _That woman was going to die, Maura! You want me to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while that happens? Huh?!" Jane shouted back, eyes wet from the sting near her mouth._

" _Let go of me, Frankie," Maura's request should have been icy, regal, but instead it fluttered and shook with emotion. He did as told, and Jane shot him a death glare. "You weren't twiddling your thumbs, god dammit! You were picking up Elena from school! That is not nothing! Her safety is not something you can just forsake for your job!" They were in each other's faces now, still screaming, but sharing jagged breaths._

" _Don't tell me how I feel about her safety. Why do you think I parked the cruiser on the side and had her hide till Frankie got here?! Because I thought it would be cute?!"_

" _She wasn't in the damned car! When we drove up she wasn't there!" At Maura's words, Jane pulled back, a nervous confusion on her face. Dread painted her skin in tones of red and pallor._

" _What do you mean, she wasn't there? She's standing right here," the detective said, her normal register sounding like a whisper in the context of their fight._

" _She got out of the car, Jane! So either she did of her own volition, or you're a liar. And so help me, if you are lying-"_

" _No! I did it! I did it!" Elena hiccuped, desperate for the argument, the shouting, to stop, "Mamma said five minutes and it was five minutes so I got out! I just wanted to look for frogs! I just wanted to look for frogs!"_

 _Jane broke at the ugly sounds, and so did Maura. When they both went to her, however, the medical examiner grabbed her before her other mother could reach out, and then pushed Jane away. "Don't touch her," she ordered, and there was the cold demeanor that everyone had expected before. "And don't you even think about setting foot in my house."_

 _Jane stood frozen as the shorter woman walked to Frankie's cruiser with their child, and Elena wailed._

* * *

"You're… ah…" Maura gasped, "you're still… so good at that…" she knocked her head back against her vanity's mirror while Jane stood between her open legs and fucked her. She had hated the small set from her mother, too antique for her taste, but as she sat on its table, grasping at the straps on Jane's hips, at those thrusting hips themselves, she wondered if she'd been using it wrong the whole time.

"That spot don't go away just because you don't like me no more," Jane panted, laughed, her Boston accent coming out to play, and she took full advantage of Maura's fall backwards to suck on her neck, to breathe in her sweat and shampoo. She hit a particularly sensitive patch of flesh in her wife, and winced when the nails of one hand dug into her shoulder.

"God," Maura sobbed in pleasure, using her calves to push Jane further inside. "Like? I _loved_ you, that's the problem. That's why this whole thing is such a… _oh_ … a mess," her inflection rose higher and higher, until she nearly squeaked the last few syllables.

"Loved me? Past tense?" Jane slowed her pelvis to a grinding crawl, and while Maura could have killed her for the change, the resulting wet, smacking sound filling her ears, the sound of them together, shot her need up another level.

" _Love_ you. I love you," the shorter woman amended.

Jane heard the desperation in her words. "But you said 'loved'," she teased.

"Don't complicate this," Maura snapped, grumpily. She glared when she pulled back enough to see the smirk on Jane's face, somewhat distorted by the only source of light in the shadowy bedroom - the bathroom's fan.

"I'm gonna make you come fast, just for that," Jane said, and Maura had to grasp onto her tightly.

"Don't you dare, Jane… Jane!" she choked out, off-kilter because of the unexpected speed and the pleasure-flood already coiling at the base of her spine. They both chuckled, delighting in a rare moment of humor between them, before Jane put a steadying hand out on the wall behind the vanity and did as promised.

* * *

Maura looked over at Jane fondly as the woman sat in nothing but her undergarments at the hole in the wet wall. She bit her lip before she talked, still able to smell the two of them in the air - she wouldn't deny that seeing Jane this way, having her this way, messed with her body chemistry; it always had. It was still no secret how Jane made her brain feel. "What on Earth are you doing?"

"You believe it's been two weeks and I still haven't finished this thing? Every time I walk in here I get sidetracked," Jane answered. She licked her lips in concentration as she measured her new cuts of lumber against the wall studs, sighing when they fit perfectly.

"And what does Dr. Harley say about the new development?" Maura jibed. She tightened her robe around herself, trying very hard not to let her simper turn into a full-blown smile.

"The fucking or the distraction?" Jane asked, unwilling to ruin the moment of easiness between them, the first in awhile.

Maura couldn't help it. She laughed openly. "Both, I suppose."

"Distraction's normal, I guess," the detective started, "but since we've done it like five times counting the first time, she's convinced it's not really just fucking for me."

Maura faltered then. She felt the fragile truce they had built on the vanity crumbling with each word that left her mouth. "You know that's all it is for me, Jane. That's all it can be."

Jane wanted to say she was full of shit, but she wasn't sure that was the case, so she only nodded. "I keep trying to tell her that," she sniffed. "But hey, you know Dr. Harley. Once she gets something in her head," she said faux-distractedly, drilling the access panel into place.

Maura thought she might cave and run into those long arms if she stayed on the topic, so she didn't. "I put your clothes out on the bed for you. I have a meeting first thing in the morning, so I would appreciate it if you could make every effort to finish up soon."

"You gonna make me leave again?" Jane asked, but by the time she turned around to demand an answer, Maura had walked away and shut the door.

* * *

"You look like shit," said Frankie Jr., pausing to swing his softball bat with a mighty whiff. He grunted, first with exertion and then with pride when he gave it a ride.

"Thanks, you're too kind," Jane snarked. She leaned up against the chain link fence of the batting cage and glared at her brother. The day was cloudy and cold, but two of the Rizzoli siblings took hacks at the batting cage every Saturday, rain or shine.

"You still not sleepin'? I know it's been rough, but I thought you'd turned the corner these past couple months," he turned fully to her, and they talked between the fence.

Jane was touched by his genuine concern. Also irked by his hogging of the cage. "Get out, little brother."

He did as told, and when they switched, he spoke again. "You talk to Elena yet?" he asked, the whirr of the machine drowning out their conversation to any of the other patrons nearby.

"'Bout what?" Jane asked as she batted.

"'Bout your shit not bein' her fault," Frankie said.

"Oh. Yeah."

"What'd you say?"

"Basically that. I told her that we love her no matter what, and we love each other no matter what. Even if things don't quite work out the way we want them to."

"Ok," he responded. "So are they?"

"Are they what?"

"Working out the way you want them to?"

Jane missed the next pitch, the momentum of her swing causing the bat to nearly catch her in the head. "What?"

"With Maura. They workin' out the way you want them to?" he reiterated. He was unwilling to let it go, and noted the pink tinge in Jane's cheeks.

"I wanna be with her. You see that happenin' right now?" Jane answered bluntly.

"Well, you tell her that?"

"Trust me, she knows."

"So you haven't."

"You mind dropping it, Frank?"

"How is she supposed to know if you don't come out and say it? Christ, I feel like it's you guys dating all over-"

"She knows because I been fucking her since the 28th, god dammit! Happy?"

"Holy shit!" Frankie gasped. "Does E know?"

"'Does E know-' You kiddin' me?" Jane balked, "oh yeah, I told my six year old that I'm nailin' her ma even though we broke up."

"No, thickhead, does she know you're back together?!" he clarified, as though it were the most obvious question in the world.

Jane's eyes darted around for eavesdroppers before she continued. Her voice was hoarse with shame. "We're not."

"You're not together," he stated more than asked, and now that he heard it, everything made sense. Including why he had mysteriously felt like an ass throughout the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, Sis. Just, you and Maura love each other so much, you know? I guess I just assumed if you were sleeping together-"

"We were making love?" She said, looking up to keep her eyes dry. She scoffed.

"Sounds stupid when you say it out loud, I guess," Frankie whispered, deflated.

"Yeah. Sounds real stupid." Jane agreed, snatching her bat and starting up another round of pitches.

"So… why did that start happening?" He picked up again after awhile. Clouds moved overhead, and some of the other people around started to clear.

"The fucking?" Jane asked through gritted teeth as she swung.

"Yeah, that," Frankie refrained from rolling his eyes at her vulgarity.

"I don't know," she said, "Maura started it one night. I was over fixing the shower leak a couple weeks ago and it just sort of happened."

"I'm surprised she didn't just want it to be a one time thing."

"She did. But then I started coming over to drop Elena off after practice, or to help Ma paint the kitchen, and… it just became a thing that we did. She's insistent that it doesn't mean anything."

"Well, we both know that's a load of crap."

"Maybe," Jane shrugged. "She seems pretty adamant, and she won't let me in the bed."

"But you want more." Frankie said, goading her to continue.

"Didn't I say that already?"

"I'm gonna ask you again. You tell her that, in as many words?"

"No," Jane said simply, wanting to spit fire at him, but remembering Dr. Harley's techniques. She should let others talk before she butted in. When she did, it gave her an idea.

"You should. Just be honest, Janie. Life's too short."

"We'll see, little brother," she acquiesced. Maybe Frankie was right.


	8. Love and War

A/N: Thank all of you who have reviewed. You've given me a lot to think about and I love the interactiveness of this space. I have a few things to say: 1) I tweaked the summary a little bit because I totally forgot to give credit to the wonderful Mr. Frank Ocean for his moving lyrics! Go listen to the song Pyrite (by Frank Ocean or by Jay Sean) - it's exquisite and was my inspiration for this story.

2) To the person who reviewed this and to those who are thinking the same thing about Jane's "boorish" language... that view is damaging and prejudicial to those who speak nonstandard language variations. I have done my research in watching Jane speak, as well as listening to other working class Boston-Italian speakers in order to get the Rizzoli family right. One's dialect has no bearing on their intelligence, nor on their character or their drive - that is a fallacy created to oppress those speakers by those in power, whose variation is the standard dialect. I suggest that if you find yourself discriminating against people who use "ain't" or elide sounds or use double negatives, you should read up on linguistic theory and the dangers of prescriptive linguistics.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

* * *

" _You stand there, and we will bring your things out to you," Maura answered the front door without a greeting. No heys, no how-are-yous, no come-in-from-the-rain, just the hurried tone of a woman too busy to deal with the nuisance before her._

 _A week and a half in a hotel and Jane couldn't even come home to a proper hello._

" _Look, Maura, I know you're fucking mad. You've made it exceedingly fucking clear. But everything would be going much faster if you just let me in the house," Jane snapped, her hair damp and her teeth chattering in the cold. Her wife had packed all of her good coats in a box somewhere beyond the threshold - she shivered on the doorstep in three Patriots sweatshirts and an old pair of Isotoners, having tried to make the best of it._

" _You know you're not allowed here. I hired movers for this specific purpose. Refusing them has taken so up so much more of everyone's time," the medical examiner spat over her shoulder. She called Frankie out from upstairs, and he had two boxes in his grip. He teetered as he descended each step, but it was the look on his sister's face that floored him._

 _The mixture of hurt and anger was more than the sum of its parts. He had never seen her so worn down, so sick before. Her brow was knotted together near the start of her nose, and her lip snarled when Maura walked away from her. There were tears in her eyes, and he could only liken to the scene to her staredown with a suspect, but she loved this suspect, and the crime that broke her heart was unequivocally her own._

" _Ok Sis, where'd you park?" He tried to sound congenial. Instead he sounded choked up._

" _Out on the street. Wa'n't no room for me here," she gruffed, and pointed to the small pickup with a shell that Tommy had let her borrow._

 _Frankie clamped his mouth shut and pretended to struggle with the boxes in his arms until the wave of emotion passed and he could trust his vocal folds again. "That uh… that gonna be big enough?"_

" _Yeah," she said, too numb to really respond to his sadness. "Most my stuff here is clothes, knick-knacks, small things. Maura wanted to buy new furniture when I moved in, so all my old condo furniture was in storage. Set that up last night."_

" _Alright," he said. They walked to the truck and she unlocked the bed, where he shoved the boxes. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, thankfully, but they jogged up to the front step for caution's sake._

" _Can you convince her to let me in? If I help out it'll take 20 minutes, max," she asked, not daring to look him in the face._

 _It was then that Frankie could no longer hold in the sobbing that ripped through him, starting from his abdomen and traveling up. He twitched slowly but still without control, and cried openly. "I tried Janie," he gulped, "but she said the only reason I was even allowed in is because you refused the movers."_

 _His sister grabbed him, hugging him tight, squeezing him as the shockwaves receded. They stood there at the wide open door, she muttering into his hair, he weeping, so long that their mother drove up to see them. She had Elena in her care, for the express purpose of keeping her away while Jane collected her things, but obviously something had changed._

" _Listen to me," said Jane, the only one who could see Angela getting out of her car with a wild look in her eyes. "Ma just got here."_

 _Frankie stiffened._

" _I know, I know. I don't know why. But if things start to get messy, don't take my side. Just protect my kid," her voice rumbled with forewarning._

 _Her brother nodded, and they broke their embrace. Just in time, too, for Elena had been let out of her seat and sprinted for Jane. "Mamma!" the girl shrieked, jumping into her arms._

" _Hey, Baby," Jane responded, "Long time no see, huh?" A week and a half, to be exact._

 _Angela came up right behind them, out of breath. "Is everything alright? What happened?" She looked at Frankie, still red and sniffly._

" _It's good. She's hot," said Elena's mother with the back of her hand to the little girl's forehead, "Why's she hot?"_

" _She's got a fever," Angela started, "Been sneezing for the past few days, and she was just too sick to keep her out. I thought I could sneak her into the guest house."_

 _Maura heard the cacophony of Rizzoli voices from just outside her door; she set her current box down and poked her head outside. "What is she doing here? And why are you holding her?" she snapped, marching to Jane to take their daughter away. It was then that the detective noticed her bare ring finger._

 _Elena shrieked. "No!"_

 _Jane squeezed her tight. "Hey, hey," she soothed, "go with your mom, a'right? I gotta take all this stuff away, so you and her can have more room. You seen the living room with all these boxes? You can barely get through it! I know you hate that!"_

 _Her attempt at lightheartedness fell flat, and her daughter only cried out more and clung to her._

" _Give her to me, Jane," Maura threatened._

" _Gimme a god damned second, Maura. I know you don't care about me, but have some mercy on your kid," Jane snarled in a harsh whisper._

 _The insinuation of bad mothering buried in the statement drove Maura mad. It drove her beyond yelling, beyond violence - her voice was tremulous and quiet. "It will be a lot longer than a week that you see her if you pull that card again."_

 _Jane bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. When she was ready to speak, it was to her daughter. "Hey Ballgame, I really do gotta go. How 'bout if I give you to Uncle Frankie? Will you let me go if I have him take you inside instead?"_

* * *

Nina Holiday knew it was in bad taste to be thankful for a time as tumultuous as the break-up of two of her best friends, and maybe thankful wasn't quite the right word. But if it hadn't happened, she and Frankie Rizzoli would not have had that initial awkward conversation about it, and then they wouldn't be snuggled up on his couch right now, watching the Celtics under a fleece blanket. Their socked feet sat in a row on the coffee table; popcorn and other various snacks littered its top.

"So did you end up going to the cages with Jane this weekend?" she asked.

Frankie wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. "Yeah, it didn't rain too bad while we were there. Just a light drizzle. She's still got it, too."

They both waited for the unfolding of an intense play before returning to their conversation. "You guys are rain or shine type of people," said Nina. "And baseball isn't really my thing. But y'all better be ready for practice on Thursday."

"Yes, Coach," he mocked, yelping when he caught a finger to the ribs, "Hey! Look, Janie and I have been playing one on one since we were kids. We got this."

" _You_ look. Y'all are some of the tallest in the league, and Jane has a six foot wing span. I can't have that going down to injury," she reasoned, dead serious. When he looked at her in disbelief, she continued. "I'm not playin', boy. I thought about making you two sign a no-other-sports contract when you came to sign-ups."

"Can you do that?" he asked.

"No," she said after a few beats. "Of course not. Plus, if I did that, you and Jane would have never agreed to be on the team. I may be strict, but I also know when I'm beat. And baseball will beat me every time."

"Well I don't know about beating you, but it'll definitely beat basketball. At least for Jane," Frankie agreed.

"Speaking of your big sister, I haven't really talked to her in awhile. How's she doing?"

Frankie shrugged and she felt it. "She's good," he settled for that, not sure how much of the information he received on Saturday he should reveal.

"Well, that's good to hear. Every time I try to subtly let her know I'm there for her, the subject kinda veers off in another direction, you know? So I don't push it," she responded. Frankie squeezed her close then, enamored with her heart, her willingness to be there for his family, and not because of him - simply because she liked them.

"Yeah. I think she tries to stay away from it because she knows that Maura really opens up to you. It's like, she doesn't want to compromise that for her, or make you feel like you have to pick sides."

"She sure is noble, huh?" Nina asked. She and Frankie chuckled.

"That's one way of putting it," he laughed. "When things were real bad, the first week or so after the incident with Elena, I was helping Jane move some boxes out of the house and we'd all be damned if Maura was letting her anywhere near the inside. She even got Ma to take Elena out so that she wouldn't be there when Jane showed up."

"Like, because she didn't want her to know what was going on, or she didn't want her to see Jane?"

"Both, I think. At that point, Jane hadn't seen E since Maura took her away and made me drive 'em home. So, Ma shows up early because I guess Elena was sick, and all hell was about to break loose. And my sister still took the time to tell me that if it came to somethin' serious, or shit went down, that I shouldn't take her side. I should just protect Elena instead."

After the moment settled, Nina sighed. She took his hand under the covers, and felt herself soften at the emotion on his face. "It's weird that we talk to them separately about the same thing. It's weird that they're not a unit anymore."

Frankie bit his lip. _Maybe not, but apparently they've been uh… uniting pretty frequently lately._ "I know what you mean. Maura was like my sister. Still is. 'Cept, well, you remember. We were over there all the time. Now I'm lucky if I see her once a week when I head over to Ma's. I have no idea how she's doing or how she's handling all this."

"I think she's… ok. She has good days and bad days. You know what she told me the other day though?" Nina asked, incredulity in her voice. She turned to him and simpered.

"What?"

"That she misses the sex. Like, girl is in a straight up-"

"Oh hey oh! That's my sister we're talkin' about here!" Frankie squirmed. He just hoped she couldn't divine from his sweaty palms and red face that the real reason he was uncomfortable was the secret he was keeping for Jane. Did she even want it to be a secret? If she did and he blabbed, he was toast.

"God, all you Rizzolis are such prudes," Nina said with a shake of her head. Her curls bounced with the rhythm of it. Frankie pulled back and she looked at his offended, gasping face. "You know what? No, I take it back. Not all of you. Just you and Jane. Angela and Tommy are very liberated."

"Yeah, and one's been to jail while the other is living in her daughter's ex's guest house," he retorted.

"Oh please. You can make anyone sound bad if you want to," Nina rolled her eyes. "Fact is, you and your sister are allergic to sex."

"Oh ho ho, that's where you got it all wrong, Detective Holiday. We're allergic to _talking_ about it. But sex itself? That's our forte," He growled as he pushed her back to the couch cushions, kissing her neck loudly, and they both laughed as the Celtics played on in the background.

* * *

"What's good here?" asked Jane as she flipped through the lightweight pages of a pretentious-looking menu. Maura had gushed about Maison de la Mer countless times, even had a personal connection to the chef, who once cooked for the Isles family themselves. Given all this, it surprised her that she had never been before.

"Well, I will always recommend the Caviar," Maura replied. "It's delicious, and no-kill."

"No kill, huh? How do they manage that?" the detective crossed her arms on the table, her smile infectious.

Maura was surprised at her curiosity. "They locate the eggs by ultrasound, introduce a signaling protein to induce labor, and then massage the sturgeon to remove the unfertilized eggs." She explained, watching the way the sea breeze played with Jane's hair in the November midday sunlight.

Jane, who was still so beautiful.

Her mediterranean skin glowed during any time of the year, but in fall, it stood out against the drab and grayish Boston weather, highlighting her exuberance and passion. Those perfectly curled lips and Roman nose completed a riveting picture for their lunch on the pier.

"Sounds nasty," she commented, and her accent only added to her appeal. Jane came from the Earth, from New England soil and Sicilian waters, and as frustrating as she could be, she still was the most attractive person the medical examiner had ever encountered. "Unfertilized, huh?"

"It really is much better for the Sturgeon population," started Maura, "and yes."

"You know, we're really lucky I can't get you pregnant," Jane offered nonchalantly.

Maura nearly choked on her lemon water. "How does that make us lucky? Do you remember how hard it was for the both of us to conceive Elena?"

"Well yeah, but I'm talkin' 'bout now," Jane reasoned.

"Again, I fail to see your point."

"Because. We've been… _you know_ … so much lately that you'd definitely be pregnant. And what a mess that would be, since I'm clearly not your first coparenting choice anymore," Jane said. Her lightheartedness shined through, and Maura was thoroughly flustered.

"We're 42; you can say that we've been having sex," Dr. Rizzoli said, making her wife wince, "and why would _you_ be the one getting _me_ pregnant?" she asked, indignant.

Jane shrugged and smirked. "You really don't think out of the two of us, it would be me?"

Maura huffed. "Even if that's true, you don't think I would make you use protection?"

"I think I can be pretty convincing in the moment. Isn't that how I got you here today?" the detective waggled her eyebrows, shoving a bite of bread in her mouth.

"Don't be a pig," Maura chastised, but laughed nonetheless. "We needed to prep for this meeting and that's why I'm here, not just because you asked while we were in the backseat of your cruiser. We have a list of common questions, some that Ms. Dougherty knows the superintendent will ask."

"Ah, it's all gonna be the same as that other paperwork we filled out earlier, Maura," said Jane, waving her hand as if to dismiss the thought entirely. Her aviators gave an extra air of _I don't give a fuck_ to the gesture.

At first, her wife was offended. "I would appreciate it if you would put some thought into your daughter's future, and how you're going to help bring that about."

Jane leaned in and resisted the urge to take Maura's hand in her own. "Look, sweetheart. I don't need that paper because I _know_ my kid is the smartest in that classroom. And she'd be the smartest in the family too, if you weren't around. Elena is respectful, curious, and classy. She is the perfect amount of asks-questions and does-as-told. And most importantly, she's passionate about learning. Honestly, I don't know how she's mine when she's so much like you."

Somehow, as she had been doing incessantly lately, the detective had found exactly the right thing to say. Maura touched her hand to heart and pursed her lips with emotion. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Now say all that in the meeting and we won't have a problem," she chuckled, and the tension broke a little when Jane joined in. "And honestly? I see you every time I look at her."

"Those awkward Rizzoli limbs are hard to hide," she responded.

Maura rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about her kinesthetic genius and her unwavering loyalty, but yes, you two do look so much alike."

Jane winked behind her shades. The waiter came and took their orders shortly thereafter, and while Maura did order the caviar for an outrageous price per ounce, her wife settled on the salmon. It came for them shortly, and between bites Jane seemed to be mulling something over. "So, I don't know what to do on this case," she finally said.

The doctor stopped mid chew at the statement. When she realized it was her turn to speak, she swallowed. "You haven't bounced ideas off me in…"

"Like nine months," finished Jane, shrugging. "You feel like you wanna help me?"

"We're here; we might as well," Maura said, trying not to expose her eagerness.

"There was a suicide note."

"I heard. Left on the work laptop?"

"Yeah. Problem is, I don't think this is a suicide, and I don't think our guy wrote the note."

"Well, I did rule the death suspicious. I haven't found anything to make me consider homicide yet, but the autopsy itself is scheduled for this afternoon."

"Will you let me know your findings when you finish?" asked Jane.

"Of course. The report will be on your desk in the morning," replied Maura, a little confused by the obvious question.

"No, I mean in person. Or over the phone. Like, as soon as you finish up."

"Like old times?"

"Yeah. I'm just stuck. If the note were written, I could have our handwriting guy take a look," Jane cursed.

"The keyboard dilemma," Maura stated, as though it were a satisfactory explanation in and of itself.

"Huh?"

"The keyboard dilemma. It refers to the growing problem of trying to identify authors in an increasingly digital world - the ID of a specific person when multiple people have had access to the same computer," she explained when it still hadn't sunk in. "Oh! I have a contact in Rhode Island. Dr. Polanski. Renowned forensic linguist - she has developed a way to compare texts to identify authors that will withstand the rigors of court scrutiny."

Jane looked at her like she had spoken in tongues. "You, uh, you got a number?"

"Yes. I met her at a forensic sciences convention ten or so years ago. She does consults," Maura said. She pulled out her phone, and read Jane the number. "You tell her that I gave you her number, then explain your problem. I bet she will be glad to help."

"Thanks, Maura, I'll call her when I get back to the station," the detective said, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. At that moment, their food walked out of the restaurant's glass doors. She nodded toward it and laid her napkin on her lap. "A'right. Let's eat so we can go to bat for our baby."


	9. The D Word

A/N: In case you are confused, the parts of each chapter in italics take place in the past - before the incident at SolCorp, during it, and shortly after. This will be the case throughout the rest of the story.

* * *

" _Maura Isles. It's been far too long. How are you?" as Maura waited in the small and empty lobby, out stepped Devon Tudor, the best family lawyer in Boston, from behind and office door. He was tall, with short, black hair and a runner's build. His suit fit him well, of course, and he smiled brightly._

 _Maura did not correct him, but stood and hugged him, with the customary kiss on each cheek. She had marveled at the offices on the twentieth floor of this high rise, all modern decor and lavish seating. Devon's office was no different, but he seemed to really value the confidentiality of his relationship with each client. No one but her waited in the seating area, and his assistant sat conveniently far from his office door, so as not to overhear any possible conversations, heated or otherwise. "I'm… well; considering," she finally replied as she took comfort in the view of the Boston skyline from the windows behind her chair._

" _Well, I am sorry about the circumstances that may have brought you here, but nevertheless, I'm glad to see you. BCU seems like a lifetime ago," the man said. He led her to his personal office and shut the door, pulling out a seat for her across from his desk._ The Brahmins always have impeccable manners, _she thought to herself as she watched his soft hands grip the back of her plush seat. His quarters matched the outside to a T - streamlined, clean. HIs iMac sat on a glass desk with minimal paperwork on each side, along with a cordless phone and pictures of his family. His wife was beautiful, Maura noticed, and she thought that he would have been so safe, so worry-less to marry._

 _That was something she craved like mad in the past few weeks. He looked like Jane, pulled out chairs for her like Jane, but wasn't Jane. He was hopelessly taken and seemingly happy. These things were a comfort to her as well._

" _You look like you have done very well since we graduated, Devon. I'm happy for you," she said. She clutched her bag, and he scooted his chair to be closer to her. She looked into his eyes to ground herself._

" _I haven't done too bad. Nothing compared to you, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth. I always knew you'd do great things," he complimented her. His kindness translated to the openness of his posture. Everything about him was welcoming._

 _Safe. This was the word that repeated itself in Maura's brain, and she realized that he was probably the first person outside of her lab whom she interacted with that_ didn't _risk his life just by waking up and going to work everyday._

" _Well, I can honestly say I do something that I love. That's what makes it great to me," she replied, dipping her head._

" _I definitely can relate," Devon said. "Now, I'd love to continue catching up, maybe over coffee sometime. But for now, we have work to do, don't we?" contrition flashed across his face, "So let's have you start by telling me why you're here."_

 _Maura didn't expect the pain in her mandible nor the lump in her throat at the first question of their meeting. She willed the wave to pass, and steeled herself for the words about to come out of her mouth. She had rehearsed them all morning after trying to pick them all weekend, but now, when the moment to speak them aloud had arrived, she feared that she would fall terribly short. She gathered some of that Isles reserve and paired it with some Doyle resolve, however, and looked Devon full in the face. "I'm here because I am looking into divorcing my wife of seven years."_

* * *

"Now, Dr. Isles, if all the paperwork is in order, I can assure you this will be quick," superintendent Michael Benintendi said as Maura and Jane followed him into his office in the east wing of the school district's main office. Jane bristled at his error as she stalked in behind her wife.

"It's Rizzoli, Mr. Benintendi. Dr. Rizzoli," Maura corrected him immediately. This soothed Jane, but the both of them remained alert and on guard: Benintendi was a retired vice detective, one who had had an… inappropriate demeanor every time Maura was around. The way he hovered behind her after the both of them sat at his desk confirmed that not much had changed.

"Well, forgive me then," he said with a tone that implied he hadn't really registered the comment, nor sought forgiveness.

"So how does this work, Mike?" Jane was much less formal, of course. She knew him from her days in vice, and he had been a mediocre cop. She never thought she'd see him again after she moved to homicide, but she did, always in the morgue, and she thought for sure they were done when he retired. Somehow life saw it fit to throw them together again, but she was determined to make their time as short as possible.

"Well, I ask the two of you some questions based on your homework and Elena's file, which I've previously reviewed," he said, sucking in some air as he took his seat. He was always short, but now his belly had become more pronounced, his gray hairline less so. He looked at Maura as he spoke, until Jane jostled her chair enough to create an obnoxious groan against the linoleum.

"Perfect. Let's get started," she said.

Maura narrowed her eyebrows at Jane. "Please do continue," she countered, smiling so that her teeth were nearly too exposed, her cheeks too tight to be anything but pretending.

"Right," he started. "Well, as I said, I've looked over Elena's file, and she has the support of her teacher, as well as teachers past-"

"I sense a 'but' comin' on," said Jane.

"'But,"" Benintendi replied, looking directly at her for the first time. "We have a few concerns."

"Oh? What are those concerns?" Maura asked, attention undivided.

"We're unsure if she is emotionally mature enough to make the leap," he shrugged.

Jane raised an interrogating brow at him. "Is there something that her teachers said that would indicate that?" Detective Rizzoli appeared, someone that Benintendi knew well. Someone he had been trying to get to come out and play.

Maura noticed, and rerouted. "I'm sure if we knew what they have said, we could give you more context within which to evaluate those statements," she said.

"They mostly seem to vouch for her maturity, but I can't imagine that yet another reason to be so different will be easy on a young girl," he offered. At their quizzical looks, he elaborated. "It can't be easy now for her, having two mothers when all of her peers have traditional families. Add skipping a grade onto that, and an anxious, quiet girl like Elena might not be able to handle it all."

How he managed to shoehorn so many insults into one explanation, Maura would never know, and Jane didn't care to ruminate on that. "All her peers have tradit- are you kidding? That's bull-" she started to say, but her wife's hand shot out to grasp her forearm and it shut her up.

"I think you may have a point, Mr. Benintendi," began Maura, ever the Italian peacekeeper. "but Elena is strong. Jane has taught her how to handle conflict impeccably. We haven't had one complaint come home either about her or from her. She is more than ready."

Jane wanted so badly to tear into him, that Maura could see. She kept her hand on that forearm, and rubbed calming half circles with her thumb, until she felt Jane's heart rate begin to fall.

"Look, Mike," Jane sighed. "You remember when I first joined the force?"

"Of course, Jane," he deferred. "you were just a kid. Seems like a lifetime ago."

She had to laugh humorlessly at that, especially given recent events. "You're damn right. Remember when Crowe and Joey ribbed me so bad for that whole first month after I got there?"

"Oh god," he chuckled. "There were so many crabs in your desk we could have opened up a seafood shop."

"Yeah, and one got me so good my hand was purple for a week."

"That's true. Hard to explain to your hooker friends how you got that, huh?"

"Yeah, no kiddin'. Almost blew my cover twice. But I stuck it, didn't I?"

He sobered. "Yeah. Made the biggest bust Vice had seen in two years that December."

"That was me," Jane nodded. "All me, even though Crowe and Grant wanted to see me fall on my face, even just for a day or two. Elena's my kid, Mike. Through and through. How you think she's gonna handle adversity?" Fire filled her eyes as it did then, and she dared him to deny it.

A bluster of hot emotion whipped through Maura's thorax when she watched Jane speak, and Mike turn red. She remembered the safety that came with a spouse like this - it was not a comfortable safety in that Jane couldn't offer a promise that she would come back alive, or even that they wouldn't get hurt in the process. But she was safe in that she knew Jane would dogfight the devil himself for her family. She crossed her legs, squeezed them to stave off the arousal that had built.

"Alright, Rizzoli. Excuse me, _Rizzolis,_ " said Mike Benintendi with a sigh and a rub of the top of his head. "Elena is in, starting at the semester. Ms. Regua, the third grade teacher whose class she will be moved into, has given me a packet of some of the things they will be learning. She says that the more you prep her, the more equipped she will be to succeed." He finished his statement with an air of resignation and a little amusement, and then he signed the necessary documents with a flourish before handing them to Elena's parents.

"That's it? No more questions?" asked Maura.

"Yeah, no third degree?" Jane chimed in, still angry at his insinuations.

"You said it yourself, kid: whether I ask you these questions or not, the answer is the same: Elena is somehow gonna get through it. It's in her blood," he said, satisfied with her response.

They weren't going to refuse that answer, so they said nothing else except thank you as they walked out. Maura exited with grace and a nod to the secretary on her way, and Jane stomped out, nearly slamming Benintendi's door off the hinges. Her anger was a weight on Maura's back, so she took Jane by the arm and yanked her into the nearest empty corridor of the office.

"Look at me, look at me," Maura said, forcing her wife to stare back into her eyes. Eventually, Jane did, and Maura saw the pain, the loathing there.

New Jane struggled to keep Old Jane from breaking free.

"I know you're angry-"

"Maura-"

"Shh. Your job is to listen to me right now."

Jane bit her lip but stayed quiet.

"I know you're angry, and you have every right to be angry. But I want to thank you," Maura said.

When Jane's forehead crinkled in a question, she shook her head. "I want to thank you personally because what you did in there was… it was touching," she whispered, running her hands down Jane's arms. "You swallowed your pride to get my daughter what she needs. For that, I will be forever grateful."

"Our daughter," Jane corrected. "And anytime. You know I'm gonna show up for our kid," she said, Maura's eyes still on her. She leaned forward to seal her words with a kiss, but Maura politely turned so that her lips would catch a cheek instead.

She grasped at the lapels of Jane's blazer and pressed their foreheads together. "Call me for dinner when you've spoken to Dr. Polanski." With that, she walked away from her, leaving the hallway for the crisp fall afternoon and her Prius in the parking lot.

Jane slapped the wall behind where Maura had stood just seconds before.

* * *

"Korsak," Jane barked when she strode back into the Homicide bullpen.

Vince turned his bespectacled face to her with a file folder in his hand, still at his desk where she had left him. "What's up, kid?"

She made a mental note to try and keep all the old-timers from calling her kid. "You know that note we been agonizing over?"

"The suicide note?" He asked, putting the file down and wheeling around to face her desk when she dropped herself into its chair.

"Yeah, e-mail me the soft copy, would ya?" she asked.

"Sure. Gonna try and go over it again, see if we missed anything?"

"Nah. I've read it a thousand times. The same 200 words, and I got nothing but a gut feeling."

" _I'm not strong enough to carry on_ ," Frankie Jr. recited as he walked from BRIC back toward his sister and Sergeant. "I've been over it too. I don't know how you're ever gonna figure out it wasn't written by our guy, Janie. Especially since it was typed."

She picked up the receiver of her work phone and looked for the number Maura had given her earlier that day. "I'm not, but I got the number of someone who can."

"Maura give you that?" Korsak asked with a shit-eating grin.

Frankie sported more of a giddy one. "She helpin' you out on cases again?"

Jane looked at neither of them as she dialed, hearing the hope in their voices and not wanting to jinx her own. "Yeah. Got my right hand back, at least at work."


	10. We Can Make Love

A/N: One more time for the people in the back: Italics are flashbacks that happen 8 (or a little less) months in the past. Regular font = present. Here's the update a day early, because I like you.

* * *

 _Tommy Rizzoli heaved a box_ _up the final three steps of the staircase in his sister's new apartment building. It poured rain out, and he tried his best not to track mud through the hall on his way to Apt. 28 - the last unit on the third floor. He hated the way things had turned out - he hated how much Jane's life had mirrored his own, when she had done everything right. He had squandered so many chances, and she had fought so hard to win every one of hers._

 _Moreover, Jane loved Maura. Not in the way he loved Lydia. Not that he didn't love his wife, but he knew that it was not the same. He provided for Lydia, went home to her, he enjoyed waking up next to her every morning. Jane needed Maura, Maura was Jane's home, Jane didn't sleep unless they were laying together. How could their marriage fail before his?_

 _Jane stood in the doorway and waved him in, taking the box from his arms as soon as he crossed the threshold. "Gotta keep this one as dry as possible; it's got paperwork in it," she said. It was her longest utterance of the day and it startled him._

 _He was not Frankie, however. He possessed little tact, and no patience for Jane's foul moods. He watched her for only so long as she resumed her stomping and huffing box contents from cardboard to shelf. "Man Sis, what is goin' on with you today? You're throwing shit around and these boxes have just been sitting in my truck for a week." He asked._

" _I been busy at work. Don't worry about it; we're here now," Jane said. Her back was to him the whole time._

 _He felt like a drowned dog standing there in the middle of the floor, flannel and sweatshirt pelted by rain and jean cuffs soaked with puddle water. The least his sister could do was be open. "Ah, that's bullshit. You love bein' busy at work. Right now you're just an asshole. And I know Maura kicked you out but-"_

" _She wants a divorce, Tommy," confessed Jane._

 _He whistled, and sat down on a barstool at the counter. He'd had his own marital struggles, wrestled with addiction, but at least Lydia never wanted to dump him. "You mean she stopped the silent treatment long enough to tell you that? That's cold, Janie."_

 _Jane rolled her eyes skyward to keep tears from coming down, and to express her disbelief. "no. You wanna know who told me? Ma. This morning. Because she saw the paperwork laying out on the counter."_

 _Tommy sensed a Rizzoli hurricane, and this time, he willed it to hit, knowing his sister would be better for it in the long run. "When did she file?"_

" _I don't know; I don't think she did. I haven't been served, and God knows she isn't gonna give 'em to me in person," she plopped down next to him._

" _Jesus Christ. This shouldn't be happening. The two of you should be together. The world isn't right when you aren't together."_

" _I mean… FUCK!" Jane shouted. Tommy hadn't heard her shout fuck that loudly since she dislocated a shoulder in field hockey in the 11th grade. "She knows I don't deserve this. She fucking knows!"_

" _What're you gonna do?" Tommy asked her. He crossed his arms and dipped his head._

 _Jane had already snatched her coat from the back of the couch. "I gotta go talk to her. I gotta sort this shit out. I can't let her keep Elena from me."_

" _Whoa, whoa. You think that's a good idea?" he stood, marching towards her. He held out his hand, praying she would take it, but not forcing it on her._

 _She didn't even look back. "Don't care."_

 _He flinched at the slammed door; it jolted him like falling in a dream._

* * *

Maura smoothed her dress, straightening creases and wrinkles that didn't really exist, and stepped out of her car. She handed the young valet her keys, her black pumps clacking on the cobblestone finish of her parking garage like a sexy signal of her arrival, her coat cinched around her waist and costing oh-so-many dollars.

The reason she would give if anyone asked why she was dressed to kill, or at the very least, stun, would have been that a meal at Sorellina's called for evening wear. She would have cited her own impeccable taste and social prowess as the bases for her wardrobe choice, and of course, that much was true. Sorellina's had four stars and some of the best modern Italian in Boston.

Only she knew the truest truth about her motives, however, when she sauntered into the door and past the bar to see her wife seated at their table. Quite frankly, she wanted others to see her, wanted others to want her, and if there was one thing she knew how to do…. this was it. She let the routine of seduction trickle down her spine, as easy as movement, as natural as cerebrospinal fluid. Men loved to watch her walk towards them and away from them, and Jane hated that.

But, it was all a part of a lovely dichotomy that had always existed between Jane and Maura Rizzoli. Maura sought to make Jane pay for her mistakes with jealousy, most definitely - Jane used to squirm at the slightest sign of lust in others toward Maura, and it was always the best method for the medical examiner to get what she wanted, quickly. But, Jane had also been very good this past month, going to therapy, caring for Elena, treating Maura to hurricane orgasms - wet, hot storms between her hips - letting Dr. Rizzoli cast her away after without any emotional commitment, letting the flood pass and letting Maura pretend the sun would come out as though nothing had torn through the night before. And so, Maura also wore all black to _treat_ Jane - the Jane who loved to look at her with unabashed passion.

It paid off, when she nodded to the lawyers at the bar who raised their glasses to her body as she passed, when Jane nearly tripped over her own toes as Maura approached.

She watched her wife stand, pull out a chair for her, run a hand through black curls and a glance over her own attire. "Hey," Jane said, voice hoarse with lust. "You uh, look great, Maura. Especially next to me in my frumpy work clothes."

"Please. Don't use all that false modesty on me," Maura rolled her eyes as she took the seat offered her. Jane's hand touched her shoulder and after moment, she touched it back. "I married you _because_ of your work clothes, not despite them."

Though Maura had meant to be light, to be humorous, Jane's brow turned dark with contrition. _Work is why I am not with you_ , her Sicilian face said.

Maura didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

They both made quick work of pouring wine and fixing napkins on laps before Jane spoke again. "Well, I have to say I was surprised that you wanted to meet for dinner. _Two_ meals alone in one week? I must certainly be charming," she said. Her chuckle was a deep and low boom to the high-strung clang and tap of silverware around them, and Maura struggled not to say _the most charming I have ever known._

"Well, I felt the need to prepare you for Dr. Polanski. She is brilliant, but… particular."

"That's Maura-speak for weird."

Maura paused and blushed. "She reminds me of you, actually."

Jane scoffed. "Gee, thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"You should feel special, because Dr. Polanski is a revolutionary when it comes to author identification," said Maura. "And she is relentless in her pursuit of the truth. Just. like. you." she punctuated every word with a poke to the table in front of her.

Jane smiled and looked down at her hands. "So… why the briefing, then? She sounds harmless."

"Oh she is," Maura confirmed. "But she is very busy. She acts for a consultant for law enforcement all over the country, and she always has clients lined up. She can also come off as brusque, even though it comes from a place of passion."

"She said she would fit us right in," Jane commented. She leaned back to survey Maura in the dim light.

Maura leaned in, curling up an eyebrow and putting her breasts on display. She smiled when her date gulped. She watched Jane's larynx rise and fall, marveled at the jolt it gave her pelvis, even after all this time. _I am playing with lightning and that lightning is going to singe me,_ she thought, suddenly not-so-confident in her ability to stay on the outside looking in. "You must have intrigued her," _you are very intriguing after all._ "She does love a compelling case. Her work on computational forensic linguistics is unrivaled."

Jane raised a curious brow. "Should I be afraid of the competition?" she said after a stiff gulp of wine and a hefty look of inquisition.

"Goodness, no. Dr. Polanski is not your competition," Maura laughed. Her fingertips brushed over the bare skin at her neckline and Jane followed them with her eyes. "For one, she's sixty. Besides, I don't believe she's interested in any romantic attachments. She views them as a distraction from her life's work."

"Mmm," agreed Jane. "They are distracting."

Maura admonished her with a glance. "I don't think I was ever a hindrance to your performance on the job, Jane."

"Sometimes," Jane winked. "For sure a distraction, early on in our relationship."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that now," countered Maura. She knew it was rough, even a little mean, but the war of angry and aroused waged deep inside of her, showing no signs of slowing. She prodded herself internally: _stop thinking about_ _rough_ _, and_ _deep inside_ _._ But, it was too late; the seed had been planted.

"Don't I?" Jane replied, dragging her gaze over the body seated across from her, telling Maura that she knew: she sniffed out the desire in the air like a bloodhound; there was no hiding it.

Maura bit the inside of her lip so hard it went a little numb. It didn't help when Jane ordered her food in a throaty Sicilian-American accent and when she nodded to the Italian-American waiter that eventually brought their dishes out. She wore camaraderie well; it conformed to her body and hugged the curves of her soul, giving it definition - a tailored suit far more attractive than one made from any fabric.

"So, tell me what it is you said to Dr. Polanski," Maura instructed. She crafted the perfect bite of lamb and artichoke on her fork, shaping it with her knife - if Jane could use her upbringing in their back-and-forth, then so could she. It melted on her tongue, the meat tender and warm, and she made sure to communicate the pleasure it gave her in the flutter of her eyelids and the purse in her lips. _Subtlety is more enticing than heavy-handed and simple_.

"Basically I told her that I needed to know if she could tell me if someone in particular for sure wrote that note, and that there were a lot of compounding factors," said Jane around her own bite. Maura realized that she sorely missed _this_ simplicity though, the way Jane ate like she meant it. Sorellina's four stars meant nothing to her when she cut through her veal and scooped it through her polenta on the way to her teeth. she chewed, mouth closed but full, like she had no time to consider proper etiquette and swallowed like she loved: with strength and disregard for anyone who might deem it improper.

Maura only hoped Elena would grow up to _mean_ everything like her mother, like this. To eat with gusto and love with abandon. "That was it. You challenged her."

Jane smiled. "She seemed like the type who would be into that."

"You're going to need to open up BRIC for her and her team," said Maura, suddenly unconcerned with anything having to do with Cheryl Polanski. Too concerned was she with the way her wife enjoyed her veal and the way she read people better than Maura could ever hope to.

"That's fine. I'm sure Nina would love the opportunity to learn somethin' new," Jane responded. She too held no interest in her tone, but plenty in the way she observed her wife. Maura relished her body's response, but took care to hide it behind a generous gulp of water.

"Where'd you park?" Jane asked when they had paid and walked out into the night.

* * *

Maura resisted the urge to loop her arm through Jane's. "Valet."

"Course," Jane answered. "Well, I'll walk you over there, then, and head back to my car." Her words excused her, but her eyes begged, as they had so many times in the past eight months, for Maura to tell her otherwise.

And, Maura, against her better judgment, obliged. "Follow me to the house. I will give you the backpack you and Frankie will need to take on Elena Giuliana's field trip tomorrow."

Jane's grin confirmed it. She hoped neither of them would bring up the much more convenient plan of just picking up the pack when she arrived to get Elena in the morning. "Ok. I'll meet you there."

Maura nodded, and it was much harder to resist the old urge to kiss goodbye than it had been in recent weeks. Jane's breath fogged out of her mouth like a homing beacon to her lips, and she fought to resist its pull. "Of course." Jane lingered at her words, a sad determination in her face, but finally she turned to cross the street.

The valet returned with her car and keys, jolting Maura back into action. She thanked him and slid into the driver's seat, offering up a heavy exhale before turning the keys in the ignition. The Boston streets still zoomed with life at 8:30 PM, and yet, she refused to follow the pattern - she took things slow and steady, the way she found herself wanting things to be lately. She assumed Jane, always a bundle of unbridled energy, would be pulled into the speed chase that was Hickney Street, but she was surprised when she looked in her rearview mirror and saw the cruiser behind. She had followed the whole way. Rather than take the shortcut she swore by, Jane had stayed behind her, followed her lead, _took things slow_.

Christ, Maura was in way over her head.

She pretended to be unhurried, uninterested when she walked past the dark guest house toward the door of her home. She pretended that she did not fumble the keys when Jane pushed up behind her.

"So is there anything I need to know about this magical backpack that isn't readily discernible from its contents?" Jane asked with a laugh under her breath when they finally made it into the heated house. The hall light was on, but most lights had been turned off - they knew Elena must be sleeping soundly in her room if Angela wasn't around picking up or brewing tea.

Maura had to laugh, too, in order to dispel some of her anxious energy. "No. But you do need to know that it has various medications and topical antiseptics, as well as approved snacks in case they offer her something processed."

"Something processed? The horror! I mean, look how bad I turned out," Jane snarked, coming around the counter to stand just inches from her.

"You _are_ bad," was the last thing Maura said before they kissed.

This they had not done in a long time - hovering in the kitchen lighting after a long day, enjoying the feel of their bodies close. Warmth tattooed them through the thin fabric of their clothes, and Jane hugged so _sinfully,_ thought Maura. Her arms cradled and caressed; her hands rubbed and wandered. Maura felt as though each embrace was tailored for her, the way it was home and hot all at once.

She ran her thumbs along the skin of Jane's cheekbones, moaning when their tongues touched. Then she tugged rugged hands into her own and away from the small of her back, and marched their bodies up the stairs. There were no sounds, no stirring in their daughter's room as they kissed their way down the hall, and it that moment, Maura felt safe enough, hidden enough, to turn them into the master bedroom.

Jane hugged her again, as though in thanks, and this stopped her in the doorway. "I'm allowed back in the bedroom, huh?"

"For a night," Maura's words poured icy temperance onto Jane's head, hesitation feeling frozen compared to the molten passion she had just let into her heart.

Her face reflected her longing to pursue that passion openly again, and Maura was torn on whether or not to let her. "C'mon, Maura," she pleaded, her tone assured and quiet, but urgent. When they crossed the threshold at Maura's behest, Jane took it as a sign to continue. "Let me make love to you."

Maura raised an eyebrow in response, nothing more. Every other part of her begged to acquiesce, every other part begged her to be lost against Jane, but she would not let it show. She tossed one last glance over toward the hallway to stall her answer, as though a simpler one would be waiting for her beyond the door.

"Don't you dare look out there," Jane, who had a knack for reading bodies, knew she had had an effect when she saw Maura's face. "Out there, everything's on fire; our world is up in smoke. But here, we can escape - I can just be Jane, and you can just be Maura, without all the shit that's gotten in the way. C'mon. Just tonight, baby. We can do whatever you want, however you want, but just don't make me pretend that it's only fucking," she said on the tails of a sob.

Emotion finally broke through, and Maura shuddered at the tsunami of it that raged against the cage of her chest. She managed a short nod before kissing Jane all over: her cheeks, her eyes, her lips, her nose, anything to catch tears from falling.

They marched backwards to the bed in the soft lamp light, and Jane pulled back to look at her wife, seeking permission: they never _ever_ had sex on Maura's bed, not since before February. It had clearly been off limits. Maura thought her heart might break at the sight of such trepidation in someone normally so brazen, and she knew she had a decision to make, right here, in the sanctuary she had built for herself in the months since Jane's departure: dismantle that sanctuary, or keep its walls erected?

"You said what _I_ wanted," she whispered, pulling Jane by the lapels of her blazer. "and that's you. On top of me. Inside of me. Here," with the last word, she tugged them downward on top of the covers.

Jane's fingers trembled when they reached around to unzip Maura's dress as they laid down. They didn't look at each other undress anymore - if they were naked at all, it was each woman on her own, racing to not be the last one in clothes. Now, with eight months of rust on her joints, she stroked each inch of skin with a fingertip as she tugged the zipper down.

Maura couldn't believe that she had forgotten about Jane's tricks, the micro-foreplays that left her unraveled before they ever really begun. It had been so hard and fast the past few weeks that the tickle on her back nearly killed her - her pulse soared and her brain roared into overdrive. When she felt the featherlight kisses sliding down the front of her torso with each inch of dress removed, she drew in a sharp breath and writhed against the covers, against Jane.

It was enough to prompt Jane into rising onto her knees. She pulled the garment away from Maura's body, her pupils exploding when they caught sight of the lack of underwear in its place.

She heard Maura's voice in her head: _pantylines;_ it would have been accompanied by a smug shrug, had it been said aloud _,_ but neither of them spoke - they both just looked at each other, and then toward the nightstand. Then they scrambled, Maura making quick work of the detective's belt and zipper, Jane using her long reach to pull open the middle drawer and retrieve her favorite toy and harness.

They undressed quickly. Maura pulled from under herself to throw back the covers, Jane slid the toy into its straps and then the curved end into herself, and tightened the leather at her hips twice, for good measure.

Maura trembled at the thought of what they were about to do, at the muscle memory starting to overtake her. _Muscles,_ she groaned inwardly, picturing the slow clench of Jane's masseter when she felt the first pulses of orgasm, or the contraction of her obliques when she entered Maura from the side. She felt her own pelvis muscles contract in anticipation, and imagined the way her calves would stiffen as she held on.

Finally getting what she had fantasized about since she threw Jane out of the house, she sighed when her wife settled on top of her. They kissed soft and desperate and unprotected; they kissed long enough for their mouths to turn pink with effort. Maura licked traces of wetness from Jane's lower lip, tugging it with her teeth, rolling it in-between her own.

The movement reminded them of the business yet to be taken care of down below. Silicone pressed against Maura's thigh; Jane couldn't tear her gaze from where she was about to be, and the mixture of sensations, of sight and touch, spun a heavy atmosphere around them. An inescapable atmosphere that barreled toward a singular, explosive point. "I'm ready," Maura croaked.

Jane chuckled nervously. "Am _I_?" she asked as she pushed herself back up, one palm on the mattress, the other running over Maura to gauge if she was as ready as she claimed.

"You better be, because I _will_ start without you," warned Maura. Jane, suddenly all seriousness again, nodded. She locked eyes with her wife, and then slid in slowly, each inch that disappeared producing a twin prick at her sides from Maura's manicured nails.

"Christ, Maura," Jane whined, her voice high and needy. The brief resistance she met sent a flash of pleasure up her spine and to her brain - she spent no time mourning the death of her self-control as she settled on top of Maura, and everything inside of them pushed _deeper._

Maura wrapped her arms around Jane's shoulders and her legs around Jane's hips. She shivered at the sensation of being filled and worked because the way Jane worked was madness; it was scaling a cliff and then losing one's grip in the way she would thrust deep, and then shallow, and then 3 times deep, and then 10 times shallow…. never in a rhythm.

Either way, Maura could do nothing but hold on and pray that she lasted long enough to make it count. "As good…. as this is when you're standing," she panted, loving Jane's features in the pale lamp light, loving the friction of their skin, loving the groan of the mattress that matched her wife's hoarse sounds. "you are a horizontal Rembrandt."

"I paint the corners, huh?" Jane remarked, being typically Jane, meeting Maura's highbrow art history reference with a lowbrow baseball one of her own.

It only made Maura wetter.

"Don't deflect my compliments…" she chastised, but the sharp moan that followed dismantled any of its potency. She grasped Jane tighter, kissed her harder, "you wanted to make love, so don't shy away when that's what we just started doing."

She was right, of course. Unequivocally. The banter was them - in the day time, the real world. But when they shut their door to the rest of Boston and laid together, it was a different story, a softer interaction. Maura still marveled at it, the way her wife cooed and moaned and whined, their marriage bed the place where Jane was most feminine, most tender- it was the curve of her, her unbridled emotions, the way she protected Maura's body from the outside world and let Maura's protect her own, and the way her perfume dotted the air for hours after they finished.

"Sorry, babe. Just rusty I guess." Jane's sentences were short, choppy, final. She would have cried otherwise, Maura's kindness so foreign and so familiar all at once.

Maura let the moment pass. She gave herself over to the waves of motion rocking through them, relished how her nipples grazed Jane's chest and how when she buried her face in Jane's neck, sweat peppered her lips. She bit that patch of skin when Jane hit _that_ spot just to the left.

"Agh. Feel better when it's not pretend?" Jane asked, dark hair falling around them, right hand gripping the edge of the mattress for leverage, leg muscles straining against skin. _So much better,_ Maura wanted to say, but she only managed a stifled hiccup. The feeling of Jane's sides undulating beneath her flat palms thrilled her enough to silence her.

Soon, though, those muscles above her started to shake.

Maura knew exactly what was coming, what that signaled, but refused to believe it; she refused to accept their unavoidable conclusion. However, when Jane fell heavy against her again, her hips becoming more regular and more hurried, she could no longer ignore the signs. She forced herself to look up and to grasp Jane's face.

It was pale and grimacing, and at first Maura thought she was wrong, that Jane was in pain. But then, she noticed the way Jane bit her lower lip. "Are you…?"

She didn't even have to finish her question. Jane was nodding furiously, and Maura fell in love all over again; she wanted to laugh, she wanted to tease, but most of all she wanted them to fall over the edge together. She flipped the both of them then, taking her place above Jane, riding her with a purposeful and deep rhythm. But, things quickly grew frantic. "Wait for me," she begged with a moan and her hands on Jane's abdomen to steady herself, "I'm almost there, baby. A few more seconds."

Jane yelped at the sudden change, and at the new spots inside of her being reached, at the sounds of their slick exchange. "I don't know if I can," she said, her breath coming out in short clips as she gripped the sheets now under her.

"Please? Just… just think about something else… to distract you," Maura's words were muffled by the hot suction of her lips on Jane's shoulder as she curved her back to bend down low; she sucked and licked enough to leave a mark.

"That ain't helpin'!" Jane yelped at the little twinge near her clavicle, slapped at Maura as she bit. But, she quickly belied her annoyance with a deep groan. "Ah shit…" she winced as she grabbed onto Maura's ass when she felt the inevitable trickle through her spine.

Maura did laugh then, her face in the crook of her wife's neck, for she knew what was coming: they _would_ paint the corners. Together. She sat up again, her purpose renewed.

For their final moments on the ascent, they moved together, sweated together, panting in an exchange of breaths and melding hips. The bed creaked, the sheets tangled, and when Maura felt the groan in Jane's diaphragm build in a crescendo and buzz potently against her hands like a hive, she let it be the soundtrack to the dopamine bath in her head and to the squeeze inside of her that refused to let Jane go.

Jane, luckily, did not want to leave. She gulped in post-orgasm air, shoulders plastered by sweat to the pillow under her head, the burn in her limbs pleasant, and the one between her legs pleasanter. "If you're gonna kick me out, it better be now, or I won't be able to get up," she grumbled.

Maura loved the way her room obscured Jane's voice and muffled it. Something about it whispered intimacy. If it had screamed it, she probably would have bolted. But, she didn't. She smiled instead, climbing off, stuffing down the odd mixture of sinfulness and contentment, and offered only one word as her response. "Stay."

Jane's black eyes shot open in the dim light. They asked a thousand questions, and she looked possessed, the whites of them almost scary in the play of shadows and moonlight from the window.

"It makes no sense for you to be here so late, and then go home, only to come back to pick up your daughter. _Stay,"_ said Maura.


	11. Same Old Same Old

A/N: The song that inspired this flashback and the title of the chapter is "Same Old Same Old," by The Civil Wars - the song is heartbreaking, and in such a good way, so you should go listen to it. There's a line that says "I don't wanna fight/but I'll fight with you, if I have to." That line, in part, inspired the Maura of _Pyrite_.

* * *

" _Hey," Jane growled as she slammed her car door. Rain pelted her as she marched in long strides towards her own front door, wearing only some joggers and a light sweatshirt in the near-freezing evening air. She pointed toward the woman starting to lock up. "back in the house. Now. We need to talk."_

 _Maura Rizzoli held an umbrella above her head and froze, keys in hand. She, in contrast to Jane, had dressed for the weather. Her fashionable ensemble of jeans, knee high boots, and trench coat complemented her winter skin, gone even more white with equal parts surprise and dread. Had Jane realized that a box of her clothes had been mysteriously left behind? Had she come to ask about it? To take back the one remnant of her that Maura allowed herself to keep? "I can't," she all but whispered with embarrassment. "I'm headed out."_

 _The clock in the hall had struck 5PM only minutes ago, but already Jane's figure cut against the blackness of the evening air. She was a three dimensional amalgam of strokes and colors against the void; the vibrancy of her in the night sky a vicious reminder to Maura that she was alive, not a figment of her imagination, or a character in her nightmares._

 _No, Jane Rizzoli was very real indeed. "That can wait. I know my kid is with Ma, so this is the perfect time. Go back in the damn house, Maura." Her long vocal tract was real; her clenched fists were real; her anger was real._

 _Maura felt her own anger flare in response._ She _was real, too. And she would be damned if she let Jane barrel through her home and her life, yet again. "Out here is fine. I have a few minutes before I run to the grocery store, but that's it, Jane. I'm not at your beck and call-"_

" _You divorcin' me?" Jane's words hit the air and Maura swore she heard it shatter. Perhaps it was just her own shock ringing against her ears, compounding the cold._

" _H… how?" was all she could muster._

 _Jane marched toward the front step, stopping just a foot or so from Maura. They both shivered in the cold and in the wake of what had finally been said aloud._

" _How'd I know? Ma saw the paperwork sitting on the counter. Real subtle, Dr. Rizzoli," said Jane. Her lip curled up, exposing a few of her teeth, "and real brave. Get my own mother to tell me about my divorce, let me be the last to fucking know."_

" _Jane I swear I didn't mean for her to see it. I didn't mean for anyone to see it. It just… it just got left behind after a rough night with Elena," Maura explained._

" _Bullshit. You_ never _leave things out unattended. I'm supposed to believe you magically started yesterday?"_

" _I haven't exactly been myself lately, given the circumstances," Maura said, tone low and much more like Jane's usual gruff register than her own light one. Though she fell four inches shorter than her wife, she met her gaze with severity. "forgive me if I am not the usual paragon of tidiness."_

" _You know damn well why that is, Maura," countered Jane. She felt droplets of rain begin to turn to pellets. She cursed that she had left the apartment without an umbrella, seeing as the one across from her was not going to be offered anytime soon. "Our life isn't in upheaval because of me."_

" _You see? This is why I'm looking into divorce. You are so wrapped up in yourself that you have absolutely no idea."_

" _Idea about what? Enlighten me, since you seem to have such a firm grasp of it all," said Jane. Her arms flew out by her side in confrontation._

" _About how much of a toll your recklessness takes on all of us!" yelled Maura, meeting that confrontation blow for blow. "Your mother's aged five years in the last two! Frankie has been_ obsessed _with making sure that I have everything in order in case something happens to you! Not to mention, god," she paused, swallowing away some tears, "not to mention me. Do you know how hard it is waking up every morning next to you, not knowing if you'll make it back to bed that night? Every day it seems, you dance with death; you CHOOSE to dance with death, and you just don't. fucking. care that it's tearing us all apart."_

 _Jane's arms had slumped as her wife rolled through the verbal onslaught, and her shoulders shook with emotion. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes heavy, her cheeks stained by a combination of rain and tears. Maura wondered - had she really never realized?_

 _Her heart sighed - the sight of Jane, broken and emotional, still hurt her, was still strange. However, she went on. "And that's not why I want a divorce. I want a divorce because I will NOT be the one to tell your daughter that you chose work over her and your marriage, and that's why you died. I want a divorce because I thought I could trust you to at least protect her, even if you don't protect yourself, but I can't. Clearly I can't."_

 _Jane staggered to her knees on the wet stone, her sobs loud and sharp against Maura's midsection. The insinuation tore her apart. The fact that she had endangered the one person she vowed above all others to keep safe stripped the most Jane-like parts of her away. What remained was someone neither of them recognized. "You can't do this to me, Maura. You know I love that kid," she hiccuped, and her wife strained to hear her through the downpour and the muffle of her coat, "and that I love you. You know it'll kill me. This will kill me."_

 _It sounded so final. So much like the simple truth. Jane's death - a possibility every time she went to work, a foregone conclusion without Maura. It scared Maura shitless to think of a world without Jane in it, but it didn't lessen her rage, or her desire to see Jane pay for her recklessness._

 _She didn't put her hands on her crying wife. She didn't comfort her. "You have to change, Jane. You have to." When Jane looked up at her, hope in her wet eyes, she powered forward, staring straight into them. "You have to prove to me that you can be trusted, and that you value Elena enough to take care of yourself. You have to see a counselor, one of_ my _choosing, to work through whatever makes you this way. And you will NOT be allowed around our daughter unsupervised, if you want even a chance at having her in your life again."_

* * *

Frankie Rizzoli shuffled up to his mother's door just as the sun rose, deciding then that parenting was serious business - and not really for him at the moment, seeing as he had to wake up earlier on his vacation day to escort Elena than he did to show up to the office every morning.

Not that he _needed_ to be that early, he thought as he rolled his eyes. He read the text on his phone again - _Tried calling u but u didn't answer. come to house tom morning b4 trip it's important!_ Angela Rizzoli called things important more often than she called them anything else, so he knew whatever she wanted could wait, in reality.

Well, in _his_ reality. But, he fancied himself a good catholic son of a loving catholic mother, so here he stood - freezing his ass off and ringing the doorbell.

Angela yanked the door open just enough for him to see half of her face, and then she pulled him in with her wild eyes and a firm tug on his sweater's sleeve. "Get in here!" she whispered, and he stumbled into the warm guesthouse.

"Yikes, Ma!" he started, feigning more surprise than he really felt.

"I was callin' you all night and you don't answer!" she complained. She peered out the blinds of the thin window next to the door, searching for movement in the main house across the courtyard.

"I was sleepin'," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I am allowed to do that, ya know."

"Never mind that. Last night I took care of Elena while Jane and Maura met for a work thing," said Angela, pacing in her robe and messy bun.

"And?" Frankie put his hands on his hips and rolled his shoulders. Coffee would do his body _real_ good right now. "We do that a lot, Ma. That doesn't necessitate me comin' over here at dawn."

"Well, they must have thought I brought Elena back here, but I didn't. I was sitting in her rocking chair, reading while she slept, waiting for them to get home, but I must have dozed off because-"

"Ma! Ma," said Frankie, grabbing her by the shoulders and trying to dispel the frenzy she had worked herself into, "what's freakin' you out?"

"Jane and Maura were having sex, Frankie! They're sleeping together! They thought I was here with Elena but I wasn't, and I heard them. _She_ could have heard them! What in the hell do they think they're doing?!" She finally spit out, slumping onto the couch behind them.

Frankie flushed and sweat formed anywhere it could on him. "What do you mean, they're sleepin' together? How do you know it wasn't a one time thing?" He plopped next to her, careful not to show her his darting eyes or fidgety leg.

"Trust me, when you're with someone for that long, you don't just stop wanting them, and knowing those two?" she replied, her rant on a roll, until she spared a side glance to her son. "Wait, wait wait. You knew!" she said, pointing to him and his tell-all face.

He froze. _Crap._ "Knew what?"

"Don't play dumb. You were always the worst at keeping a secret," Angela said, grabbing his hand, more to intimidate than comfort him. "They been doing this long?"

"Does it matter, Ma?" he sighed. Why did Jane tell him all this? He needed deniability.

"Of course it matters! It'll confuse the hell out of that little girl," Angela reasoned. Frankie had to admit it wasn't a half bad reason.

"It's not our business," he said weakly.

"It is our business, because Elena is our business," she asserted. "And you're gonna talk to your sister about it."

"What? No!" Frankie said. He held his hands up and scooted as far towards the edge of the couch as he could.

"If you don't, I will," threatened Angela. She crossed her hands in her lap, and under all the fury, the uncertainty, and the frazzle in her face, Frankie saw cautious happiness, too - almost relief.

 _Great._

* * *

Jane Rizzoli slept like the dead for the first time in a very long time, really. And, despite not having slept next to her in nine months, Maura's body remembered exactly what to do. Her ear, quite unconsciously, had melded itself to that Sicilian heartbeat in their sleep as the muscle fibers of its chambers tapped slowly, evenly. Her hand had, maybe a little more intentionally, flattened against Jane's abdomen; the steady rise and fall of her belly, the absence of a twitch every time Maura's fingernails grazed the skin there, were signals that REM was in abundance.

Since SolCorp, Jane had scrounged up as little sleep as physically necessary to survive. But now, it was as it had always been between them, before SolCorp - Maura wrapped against Jane, Jane in deep slumber, numb to the turmoil of the day. Not even Maura's alarm caused her to stir.

This all frightened Maura. The familiarity of Jane's body heat, raging despite the cold outside, frightened her, and so did the ease with which they both settled into their old routine. Perhaps, if she were to be more truthful with herself, it was the ease with which _she_ settled into their old routine that scared her. All Jane had to do was lay, and sleep - she had done the snuggling, the caressing.

When she rose, grabbing her robe from its spot on her window seat and wrapping it around herself in record time to beat the cold, she spared a glance back at her wife in the low light of the sunrise. Part of her was loathe to disturb the peace in the room when she saw Jane shift her newly freed arm and sigh in contentment.

The other part, however, remembered exactly why she had allowed Jane to stay. Or at least, the reason she had given at the time: Elena, and her field trip to the aquarium. _Shit._ "Jane? Jane," she said as she shook a covered hip. "Jane you have to wake up." Jane barely moved.

"' _M sleepin' bfff…."_ said she into muffled pillows. She rolled over onto her belly and Maura rolled her eyes.

"A language I can understand, please, for now," she said, sighing. She sat on the edge of the bed, studying the relaxation in the smoothness of Jane's forehead, the opening of her mouth. Since shaking clearly did not do the trick, she tried her hand on Jane's exposed shoulder.

"Shit," Jane whispered as her eyes shot open and she stirred. "Your hands're freezin'. What? 'S it Elena?"

It all _sounded_ like English to Maura, the phonemic register was the same, but between morning voice and slurred words, she only got the last part. "Yes, it's Elena. I will be waking her up soon if she's not up already and she can NOT know that you spent the night. So get up."

Jane stretched, lumbar vertebrae crackling with new movement. She sat up, slowly, and yawned. "K. There enough shampoo and stuff for me in the shower?"

Maura sported her first incredulous look of the day. "Oh no, you're not showering in here."

"What? why?" Jane asked. She yelped when Maura pinched her elbow to get up.

"Because Elena often comes in to talk to me while I get ready. How well is that going to go over when she walks in and the shower's running but I'm out here choosing clothes for the day?" Maura replied.

Jane sat up and rubbed the back of her head. Her lips smacked together, too. "What do you want me to do then, huh? Not bathe? I still smell like sex."

Ah yes. Sleepy Jane was a filterless Jane, as Maura was now beginning to remember - hence the hesitationless mention of sex. "There is a perfectly working shower in the off - in the guest room," she revised. They locked eyes at her gaffe.

"You can say office, it won't offend me," Jane said kindly. She put a hand on Maura's thigh and relished the feel of satin against her palm. They sat next to each other for a few seconds saying nothing, Jane trying to stay awake, Maura trying not to cry. Indeed, before it was emptied and reverted back into a guest room, the office had been a place for Jane to work, instead of bringing murder into their bedroom.

"Well, go to the office and shower, then," Maura finally said. "She will be up soon, whether I wake her or not."

"Alright already, Mom," Jane snarked. "You seen my pants?" she asked, staring down at the pile of her clothes in the dark, pants suspiciously missing. "God, it's gonna be real classy for me to be in yesterday's work clothes at my kid's field trip."

Maura laughed. "Luckily for you, there is a box of clothes that you never took," that was… _somewhat_ truthful.

"Well look at that," said Jane, "my oversight is payin' off."

"Alright, up now. We've wasted too much time talking," Maura replied, lifting her up by the arm and hearing more bones crack and pop. They both winced but she pushed forward. "You better be downstairs when Elena comes down for breakfast."

"Christ, it's cold!" Jane yelped when the air hit her skin. She moved to dive back under the covers, but Maura stopped her by throwing a towel at her. "A'right! I'm goin'! Gimme a second, huh?"

It was not to be however, because she was marched toward the bedroom door and promptly blocked from the threshold by her wife's body. Maura watched Jane's eyes adjust for the first time that morning and drink in the fact that she wore nothing but that robe and a cautious smirk. "Goodbye, Detective Rizzoli. And hurry up."

* * *

Elena Rizzoli shuffled down the stairs of her home in jeans and a long sleeve tee. Her glasses were a little crooked - they had been put on in the dark after all - but she still saw her mother perfectly at the kitchen table reading the paper and eating a bowl of oatmeal. "Ma!" she shrieked as best she could in her morning rasp, and ran to Jane.

Jane was startled by the sudden bolt of sound in an otherwise quiet house. "Hey, baby," she answered back when she saw her daughter approach. They hugged. "how're you this morning?"

"Good," Elena answered truthfully, sitting at the chair next to her mother, who sat at the head. They very nearly matched, Jane in jeans and a sweater/oxford combo. She looked like the woman Elena would grow to be, minus the grace and genius she received from Maura. "why are you here so early?"

Well, didn't she just get right to it? Another Maura trait. "Cause I'm goin' with you on your field trip. And Uncle Frankie's coming so I didn't want him to get here and have to wait for me." _And your mother and I spent the night in bed not really sleeping._

"Oh ok," Elena shrugged, accepting of the answer. "it's Friday."

Jane chuckled at the non-sequitur before braving another bite of her healthy breakfast. "Uh, yeah it is, kid."

"I don't usually see you on Friday."

"That's true," said Jane. She waited, wanted to proceed with caution.

"Why?" Elena asked. She swung her feet under the table and awaited an answer.

"Well, I work."

"Yeah but you work on Wednesday and I still see you."

"That's also true," said Jane. She took a deep breath to steady herself and began again. "Remember after your mom and I had that big fight in February, and you went to go see a doctor to talk about it? To talk about your feelings?"

"Yeah," said Elena, curious.

"Well, I do that, too. Just on Friday nights after work."

"Why?"

"Makes me feel better to talk about it with someone who wasn't there, you know? A fresh perspective. Perspectives are important when you're a detective. Didn't it make you feel better?"

Jane didn't think they'd be having this conversation at 6:45 in the morning at the breakfast table, but hey, here they were, and she didn't think she was doing too shabby given the time and lack of coffee.

"Yeah," Elena responded truthfully, simply. "How come you don't talk to Mom about it?"

Jane swallowed thickly. She knew Maura would never allow Elena to be a detective, but the kid had a fucking _knack_ for finding people's buttons. "Sometimes I do. But I should more often, shouldn't I, Ballgame?"

Elena shrugged again. "She's your wife."

Jane laughed a wet laugh at the audacity and unpredictability of children. "You're right. She is. You hungry?" she asked as she started to leave her seat for the kitchen.

"I'll get it, Jane, you finish that," came Maura's voice from behind them as she entered the kitchen, as though on cue. She looked stunning in one of her favorite blue dresses and Burberry trench coat, and smelled of strawberries and flowers as she glided toward the refrigerator. _Perfection even under stress._

The two brunettes at the table looked on at her, enamored. "Thanks," was all Jane said, all that she allowed herself to say in the presence of her child.

"I'm fixing you some yogurt because it's fast, sweetheart," said Maura as she grabbed the yogurt, honey, and berries from their various places. She paced about, pulling down three tumblers from the cupboard.

"Mmhmm," Elena agreed easily, smiling and swinging her feet with renewed vigor.

"You need help over there?" asked Jane with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Maura fibbed, only willing to accept the help because she wanted to feel Jane close, "make the coffee, please. Your brother should be over soon." She got her wish, feeling a distinctly dark, tall presence move into her space and reach for the coffee beans.

"Does Mommy still drink fair-trade soy foam _blah blah?_ " Jane teased - of course Mommy still drank it, but it made Elena laugh. Maura rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Mommy still values her health," she volleyed back as she mixed Elena's breakfast and set it in front of her.

"Well, her body _is_ a temple," said Jane in a sassy murmur. Maura pinched her hip and tossed a glance toward the unlistening ears of their daughter. Jane only winked.

Just then, the back door nearest the courtyard opened, revealing Frankie in a puffy jacket and scarf. "Mornin' Rizzolis," he said, breath coming out in a warm cloud before he shut the door behind him.

"Mornin' brother. You usually come through the front. Sleep over at Ma's?" asked Jane as she started on the first cup, the most difficult - Maura's. She loaded up the Keurig for hers and her brother's.

Frankie glowered at her. "No. She wanted me to stop by before I came over. You and I'll talk about that later," he said, making his way to his niece's chair. "Hey, E," his voice changed for her, became kinder, and softer. So did his eyes. "You ready for today?"

She nodded and let herself be kissed loudly. "Ma says you threw up at the aquarium when you were my age," she added as though it were talk of the weather.

Jane blushed and tried to hold in a laugh, and Frankie shot her another glare. "Oh did she? Well, have I got some stories for you about your wonderful Ma."

"Oh c'mon Frankie," laughed Jane, walking over to him. "I made you coffee, let's call it a truce, yeah?" When he put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow, she pouted. "Please? We haven't even left the house yet."

He tapped his foot a few beats before sighing and acquiescing. He took the tumbler held out to him, and sipped. "Oh god, that's good," he moaned.

"Ma's up and at 'em early, huh?" Jane asked, smirking at him.

"Isn't she always? Just you wait," he said. The three adults in the room shared a commiserating look.

* * *

Jane and Frankie hadn't seen Elena up close much since they walked through the doors of the aquarium hand in hand with her. Every once in a while, they would spot the top of her curly head move through her group or hear her breathless exclamations of excitement, but mostly, her face stayed glued to the glass of the Giant Ocean Tank - renovated just a few years prior and apparently housing everything a six year old could possibly love.

She oohed and ahhed at the Lionfish, shrieked in delight when eels slithered past, had

asked for Jane's cell phone to text Maura about Atlantic Goliath groupers and other various ancient fish. Now she had picked a bench, overwhelmed by it all, and watched the wildlife swim by.

"Thanks for comin', brother," Jane said as they watched her from a back wall, lit only by the natural light from the top of the tank.

Frankie shook his head. "No problem. After that meth head shakedown yesterday, these brats are a walk in the park."

They chuckled in camaraderie. "But really. Maura wouldn't have let me do this if you hadn't agreed to come." she said, suddenly sobered.

He looked ahead, not at her, and gave her some space. "I know. But somethin' tells me that's not gonna be how she feels for long."

Jane looked at him, eyes desperate for his reasoning and for any hope he might be able to offer. "You see the three of you this morning? I remember when she didn't even want you near the house. Now you've been upgraded to barista."

They were both grateful for icebreaking humor then, but Jane heard Dr. Harley's voice, heard her own voice telling Dr. Harley how much Rizzoli deflection had hurt them in the long run. Honesty was the only way out - that was the conclusion they had reached together in the counselor's spacious office. "So, last night Maura…."

"and you slept together. I know," Frankie cut her off and finally turned to her. "Ma told me."

"Wow, I was gonna say that she asked me to stay over, but…" she said, but froze when his sentence caught up with her. "What do you mean Ma told you? What the hell?"

"She was in the house, Jane. She was with Elena in her room. She said Elena was out cold, but she heard you guys," he winced, letting it all out in a rush.

"Oh God, Ma knows," Jane whined. She slumped back against the wall and put a hand to her forehead. "is this what she wanted to tell you this morning?"

"She wanted me to talk to you about it and tell you that you better knock it off or make a decision because eventually E is gonna find out and it's gonna suck. I mean, of course Ma made it way more doom and gloom than it needed to be, but she kinda had a point in the end."

Jane sighed. Angela knew that they were having sex. Angela _heard_ them having sex. Not only was this mortifying and possibly the worst thing to happen to her since being kicked out, now it was only a matter of time before everyone in their goddamn lives knew. "I'll talk to Maura. I know I have to."

Frankie felt her pain. Like when his mother told everyone they knew that he lost his virginity to Rosa Santini. But, he couldn't help but smile so wide that his cheeks hurt. It probably wasn't appropriate given the headache his sister had, but hell, he had learned not to hide happiness when it came along. "So, you stayed the night, huh?"

Jane shook her head at his raised eyebrows. "Shut up, Frankie."

* * *

"We went out for an early dinner after the aquarium; she's beat." When Jane rolled through the front door of Maura's home, she was carrying a sleeping Elena in her arms.

Maura herself sat on the sofa, sipping a glass of wine and rubbing her bare foot. The sight of them, of Jane trudging up the stairs to lay their daughter down, hit her with a mixture of peace, longing, and sadness. "How was the trip?" she asked when Jane returned and sat next to her.

"It was a lot of fun. She had fun. I know it was my turn, but it really shoulda been you there, Maura. She was goin' nuts with all that biology stuff."

"I heard," Maura smiled, nodding to her phone on the coffee table. Elena had texted her ten times during the trip, all about various species she had seen.

"Sorry 'bout that," said Jane, rubbing the back of her neck. "She was just too excited for me to have the heart to stop her."

"That's more than alright. I loved hearing from her. Although I don't think I've seen that many texts from you in a day for a long time," this statement was not an accident, but neither was it said with an ulterior motive. She only let it sit in the open, naked, and unashamed. The hurt was raw, and it was real.

She watched Jane's face travel through pain, understanding, arousal, and then respect. "It's been awhile. Listen, Maura. Elena asked me this morning why I don't talk to you more about things. You know, things that have happened between us."

"And what were you two discussing that that came up, pray tell?" asked Maura, cautious and a little defensive.

"Hell, I don't know. Kids say random stuff sometimes. But she asked me why I don't see her on Friday nights, and I told her that I go see Dr. Harley. Eventually she asked me why we don't talk about it."

"And?"

"And she's right. I mean, she has a reason to wonder, because I should be talkin' to you about things. I should."

"Elena Giuliana is very smart."

"Yeah. And I think we _should_ start talking. About us, about things that happened. I also think last night was a step in the right direction," said Jane, inching closer to her wife.

Maura wanted so badly to lean in, because she could tell that Jane so badly wanted to kiss her. But, after her second glass, she needed clarity first. "Last night was good. But I need some time to think about what you just proposed. Because it's big. Us getting together to hash out everything is big. And with how angry at you I still am, we might need a moderator."

"A keeper of the peace?" Jane asked, unoffended and in good humor.

Maura nodded. "Exactly."


	12. Blue

A/N: Here is chapter 12. I can't express how much it pleases me to see you guys interacting and connecting with the story. It's the dopest thing about fanfiction.

P.S. - this is a pretty Maura-centric chapter. Be kind to my baby - she's hurting. But, I think things start to look up for her and Jane a little bit from here on out. Yay!

* * *

 _Detective Nina Holiday knew a thing or two about sorrow. Her father had died unexpectedly of a heart attack when she was in college - computer science had never seemed so trivial to her as it did then. When she had been with Chicago PD for five years, her boyfriend had been gunned down as a result of gang violence in the area - even police work had paled in comparison to the desire to have him back with her. She'd nearly resigned._

 _When she arrived in Boston, she looked for what her mother had called a new lease on life. She always thought the expression trite, as though life were a property to be owned and exchanged, as if it were neat. But then, it happened: her life picked up, and she made new friends, had a great new job with people who were passionate, kind, and welcoming._

 _So when she saw Maura Rizzoli barely containing a sob in the breakfast line at the Division One Cafe, the same Maura who had been the first to ask her about her time in Chicago, the first to really listen to her heartache, she couldn't do nothing. "Hey girl, everything ok?" she asked, putting her hand on Maura's forearm._

 _Maura nearly lost it. She nodded vigorously, but Nina suspected that was more to protect her pride and mascara than to convince anyone._

" _Ok, ok, come with me. We're gonna have a little walk, visit the back stairwell," said Nina, coaxing Maura away from the crowd around the counter full of danishes. Maura followed, grasping Nina's offered arm tightly, keeping her face shadowed by the waves of her hair._

 _Nina made sure to take the route which led away from the elevators, where most people were likely to be, and when they finally made it into the empty stairwell, the echo of their heels ping-ponging on the concrete walls, Maura collapsed into her arms._

" _Alright, it's alright," Nina breathed, rubbing circles on Maura's back, swaying her gently as the moment unfolded. She could guess why tears were hitting the shoulder of her sweater, but she would remain quiet until she heard the answer._

" _I'm sorry," Maura said after some long moments, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. She made the motions of a laugh when Nina handed her a handkerchief, thankful for the gesture and embarrassed about her running makeup._

" _Don't worry about it," Nina said sincerely, waving her off. "You certainly don't have to if you don't want to, but care to tell me what's goin' on?"_

 _Maura started to cry all over again, and for a moment, Nina regretted offering if it was only going to make her so much more upset. But then Maura spoke. "It's just…. Jane. And I can't talk about her with anyone else because they're all related to her. My only option is my_ mother _, who is conveniently across the world right now."_

" _I get that. And I'm here," Nina reassured her._

" _She…" Maura began, and she took a steadying breath, voice wet but no new tears falling. "She found out I'm looking to get a divorce, and she found out in the last way I would have wanted her to find out."_

 _A door slammed a few flights up, and they both paused before making sure that they were still alone. "Did she get served?"_

" _No, no. I haven't filled out the paperwork yet," said Maura. "But her mother saw it on the counter. I accidentally left it out, and I guess she told Jane."_

" _Yikes," Nina said._

" _Yeah. I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want her to find out from anyone but me, but it just happened."_

" _I can understand that."_

" _She came by last night, so torn up about it. I have never seen her that angry, or that hurt. But I guess I can understand why she would feel that way," Maura inhaled deeply and tried to let logic take her over._

" _Maybe," Nina said. She felt for Maura, and the last thing she should be worried about during a time like this was logic. "So, pardon me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing not many people have asked you how you feel about everything."_

 _At that, at the truth spoken so compassionately, Maura hung her head and let the tears run down her face again._

" _So… how are you feeling about everything?" asked Nina softly, putting a hand on a shaking shoulder._

" _Alone," Maura choked out. "I feel so alone. And I miss her so much. I'm embarrassed that I assumed my protector would also protect our child above all else. But mostly, I'm angrier than I've ever been in my entire life."_

 _Nina grabbed her again and held her tight._

* * *

"Why is your hand so cold, Mommy?" asked Elena as she was led through Saturday afternoon foot traffic on Newbury Street.

Maura held three bags of Christmas presents and a smile that could only come from a day of hitting the shops. "Because I was forgetful this morning and didn't grab any gloves. Am I making _you_ cold?"

"No, just wondering," the little girl said. She was wearing a pea coat over a knit sweater and dark jeans, and fit in with the more fashionable shopgoers that surrounded them. Heavy, gray clouds covered their patch of Boston sky, and it looked as though it might rain. Neither Rizzoli minded, however, as they walked in tandem to their destination.

"Well that's good. Your hands are always warm, like your mother's," Maura said. They waited with a group of others at a crosswalk, the gaggle of bodies providing some warmth in the cool November air. "Let's hope you and I don't have low blood pressure in common."

"Is that bad?" Elena asked, worry in her voice.

"Too low, yes. If you're in the low end of the normal range, like me, it mostly means dizzy spells. And cold hands and feet!" Maura stuck her ice cold fingers on the back of her daughter's neck at the last moment, and they both laughed when Elena yelped and jumped. The light turned, and they crossed, one of a few to turn right towards Boston Joe's instead of left toward the restaurants.

Elena loved the place.

"Would you like hot cocoa?" asked Maura, surveying the menu above the counter, scratching lightly at the little shoulder under her free hand. It was a foregone conclusion, really. Elena only ever ordered the hot chocolate, even though there were other non-coffee beverages that she was allowed to have. The cocoa at Boston Joe's was by no means special, but Jane went nowhere else - and thus, Elena was the same. The one time Maura had taken her to Starbucks on a busy school morning, she had flat out refused to drink it.

"Yeah," she answered easily enough, as though she didn't think the question obvious. Maura ordered, tacking on a heated pain au chocolat for them to share, and lead the way to one of the few open tables toward the back of the building, directly in the sunlight. She sat first, her back to the wall, and Elena faced her, admiring the glint of the light in her mother's hair and on her jewelry.

Since Elena had been born, Maura returned to the longer, almost blonde locks of her early friendship with Jane. It softened her face and framed her narrow shoulders, and her daughter loved to twirl it around her little finger whenever they lounged together. As she watched Elena now, all smiles and froth-stained upper lip, she wondered how she ever could have gotten so lucky.

"I love you so, Elena Giuliana," she said. She grabbed that little hand and kissed it, as though in apology for taking her for granted.

Her daughter looked puzzled by the emotion, but answered back with no qualms and a big heart. "I love you too."

Maura let a few moments of silence fall between them as she sipped her soy latte. "And, how was your trip? Your mother says that the three of you had fun."

"It _was_ fun! I want to go back so bad!" Elena said as she immediately brightened. Her tiny legs swung to and fro, and she nearly vibrated out of her chair.

"Well, we definitely will. Maybe this summer. Did you have a favorite exhibit?"

"The cownose rays! Ma let me pet them, even though she said they felt like snot," Elena said giggling upon the remembrance of her mother's exaggerated gag.

"Ah, _rhinoptera bonasus_ , commonly found here in New England and other places in the Western Atlantic," Maura offered. " _Mamma_ has always been finicky about certain consistencies. Did she at least make sure you sanitized after touching them?"

" _Mom,_ " Elena drawled out, her tone too much like embarrassed teenager for Maura to take. "Uncle Frankie went with me. He helped me wash up."

"Oh, that's good. And how were the two of them? _Mamma_ and Uncle Frankie. Did they get along?"

"Yeah," shrugged Elena. "But, I like not having a brother or sister. Ma and Uncle Frankie are always hitting each other and it looks like it hurts."

Maura rolled her eyes. "Trust me, my love, I know. They have… a unique relationship. And they don't hit each other to cause harm, they're just horsing around. But they both love you very much."

"Mmhmm," Elena agreed. She took a big bite of her pastry. "Can I ask you something?"

Maura smiled as the question tumbled out around a hefty chunk of fluff. She didn't have the heart to admonish her daughter for speaking with her mouth full, or for the chocolate on her lips. "Of course. Anything."

"What does 'make out with someone' mean?"

Maura nearly spat out her coffee. "Excuse me?"

Elena continued as though her mother didn't hear her. "What does make out with someone mean?"

"Can I ask where you've heard this phrase before?" asked Maura, a scandalized hand moving to her chest.

"Uncle Frankie."

"Oh. Well, it…" she paused, searching for the right words. _Rizzolis._ "Basically it means to kiss someone. Passionately. What were the two of you talking about that it came up?" she heaved a sigh of relief that it hadn't been at school.

"He was telling me a secret," Elena whispered, as though the information may be picked up at any time by someone close by. She leaned in, and Maura leaned in, too. "He said he made out with Stacy King in the 10th grade."

Maura turned bright red and then laughed enough for her lungs to hurt. _Oh, poor Jane_. "Oh goodness. Is that really what he said?"

"Yeah…" said Elena, "why is that so funny? Who's Stacy?"

Definitely NOT a topic to discuss with a six year old. Mostly because she would understand none of it. "Stacy was a girl that your _Mamma_ was very close to in high school. Apparently Uncle Frankie was very close to her, too. She will be very… interested in this information when I tell her."

"Is Ma coming over tonight?" Elena asked at the mention of her mothers talking, totally forgetting that she was not supposed to have told her Uncle's secret.

"No, my Elena, not tonight. But you may see her after work on Monday."

* * *

"I've been neglecting you a little lately," said Maura as she waltzed into BRIC where Nina typed away.

"Panera? You shouldn't have," Nina gasped, putting a hand to her lips. "How'd you know I was starving?"

"I've walked past BRIC three times this morning and you haven't moved from that spot," Maura pursed her lips, somehow still managing to smirk and admonish in the same range of motion. She handed Nina the paper bag in her hands, and they moved to sit at an empty desk in the back of the room, where the both of them looked around for eavesdroppers.

"Well, don't let anyone tell you you're not observant," Nina inhaled, letting the smell of chicken noodle soup enter her olfactory nerve, "thank you, by the way."

Maura smiled and nodded. "Of course. How are you?"

"Great. Tired, but great. I've been installing the software for Dr. Polanski's author ID program, getting rid of bugs, adjusting the settings for BPD security," Nina answered around a bite of buttered bread.

"I can imagine it's going to be amazing," replied Maura, turning to look at the display screens in the front of the room, "you know, I'm just awed by Dr. Polanski's rigorous scientific standards for linguistics in the forensic realm. Others have mocked her methods, but I find them brilliant."

"She already seems very thorough. She's like the sciency version of Jane," said Nina.

"I would agree with that assessment!" Maura exclaimed on a gasp, "Jane gets upset when I bring it up."

"She's touchy. Speaking of, how are things? I know we haven't talked about it in awhile, but how are you adjusting?"

Maura loved this about Nina – the honesty and the cutting to the chase. "I'm actually better. A little confused, but better."

"Confused, huh? Because I seen you walking around here with a pretty unconfused smile on your face. You've been practically glowing. Usually I'd pin it as the sex glow, but I know you're not getting any, so… what's up?" asked Nina, an interrogative arch in her brow and a simper on her full lips.

Maura didn't answer. She just blushed. Hard.

"Oh my god. It _is_ a sex glow!" Nina whispered harshly. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating?! Who?! Do I know this person?!" her gaze darted around the bullpen and back, and when she saw Maura sheepishly steal a glance toward Jane, all wild hair and biceps and bulldog concentration, she gasped. "Oh my god. Y'all fuckin'?!"

"Nina!" Maura said her name in a hush.

"I'm sorry, sometimes I get carried away and the South Side comes out of me," Nina deferred, holding up her hands. "It's just… _Maura."_

"I know! I know. It's a bad idea that could become ten times worse if my daughter finds out."

"Well yeah, but I'm talking about you, girl! Your feelings are on the line, too. How long?"

Maura winced. "A month and a half, maybe?"

"Are you serious? So what, did you sleep with her right after we last talked about this?"

"No! It was… a week or so later."

"Phew. You are in deep," Nina sighed, dabbing her mouth with a napkin as a way to calm herself, absorb the information. "But only you know the real consequences of what you're doing, I guess." at this statement, both women nodded, accepting its truth and gravity.

They ate their lunch in a comfortable silence for awhile, until Nina couldn't hold it in anymore. "So… is it good? The make-up/break-up sex?"

Maura, relieved to no longer feel judged, looked up to the ceiling and shuddered. "You have absolutely. no. idea."

The two of them laughed. Nina spared one last look at Jane's form and said, "you right about that."

* * *

Dr. Cheryl Polanski, all five-foot-one of her, marched into the Boston Police Department like she owned the place. Indeed, she had been several times, the most recent on a tour of their state of the art crime lab just before a young and passionate Dr. Isles had stepped in as chief medical examiner. She had enjoyed her trip, and hoped that, if they needed linguistic support, she would be the one they called.

The time had come - she exited the elevator on the third floor, homicide's floor, and revised her wish. Never, under any circumstances, did she hope for homicide. It wasn't that she was squeamish, or had a beef with the murder police. Rather, she valued human life, and hated to see it end, no matter who had breathed their last. But, as a scientist, she understood that language, as the primary vehicle for human communication, would always show up as far as people were concerned. That included the very human element of killing and dying.

So, here she was, in her 90's feathered bangs and hot pink blazer, the pin on her lapel the logo of her non-profit organization, stepping into the bullpen behind a burly uniformed officer that was all length and girth, with legs like pillars.

Jane Rizzoli stood as a welcomer, too, all 5'10 of her, and held out her hand, the apex of her six foot wingspan. "Dr. Polanski, I'm Detective Rizzoli, we spoke on the phone. Welcome to BPD."

Needless to say, size made the two of them a unique pair. Nevertheless, Dr. Polanski returned the handshake with a firm grip and took the seat offered her. "Cheryl, please. Now, should we get down to business?"

"I'd like that," said Jane, adjusting the gun on her hip out of habit before sitting at her computer. "So, our victim, male, 37, caucasian, was found in his residence at 4:15 AM-"

"Oh, Detective," interrupted Dr. Polanski, "details about the nature of the death and body are better not shared with me. It may cloud my judgment or the judgment of my colleagues. Just what I absolutely need to know is fine."

Jane smirked. "I can respect that. We, uh, we found a suicide note on an open laptop belonging to the victim's place of work, but the medical examiner ruled his death suspicious."

"Dr. Isles," offered Dr. Polanski, both as a clarification and an affirmation that she had understood. As one so closely tied to language, she grasped the importance of using it to build relationships. But, more than that, she knew, from experience, to show her understanding to cops at all times. They tended to underestimate her, to misunderstand forensics, and assume that forensic scientists were not very knowledgeable of police procedure. Proving that she knew the police was essential, and she had honed that technique to a few words here or there, or in this case, a name.

"Dr. Rizzoli, yes," Jane said. At Dr. Polanski's upturned brow, another sweet, silent, streamlined snippet of language, this time a question, she elaborated. "Maura."

 _Ah._ "Perfect. So she has ruled the death a suspicious one."

"Exactly. Which is why we're investigating. But I have this feeling that the note was not written by the guy."

"Do you have anything more than a feeling?" asked Dr. Polanski, in true Maura fashion.

"Not really, except that about 45 other people had access to that work laptop at any given point in time. 45 people had the passcode at the time of his death. Mostly IT people and a few coworkers, members of his team."

"Now you're talkin', Detective."

"So, that's where you come in. I need you to tell me if the guy wrote the note."

"I might be able to do you one better. If you can get me e-mails, blog posts, anything written by those 45 others, I can probably tell you which one of them wrote it," said Dr. Polanski. She leaned in and crossed her arms on the free space of Jane's desk.

Jane broke into a handsome smile. "Great. That's just great. We're gonna try our damnedest to get that for you. Nina, our detective in the Regional Intelligence Center, is doing the software install you requested for your team now. Want to go see how it's going?"

Dr. Polanski's grey-blue eyes lit up at the mention. "Definitely. Lead the way."

When they crossed the few yards to BRIC and Jane opened the door, she was surprised to see Maura in the room, the two of them sharing a meal and talking easily. "Hey, Nina?"

"What's up, Jane?" Nina looked up from where she sat, and upon seeing Dr. Polanski, stood up and wiped her pants.

"This is Cheryl Polanski. She wanted to come in and check out your work."

"Yes, yes! Detective Nina Holiday, it's a pleasure," when Nina held out her hand, Dr. Polanski took it and nodded gracefully. "and of course you know Dr. Rizzoli."

"I do! Though when we met, she was still Dr. Isles. I don't know how you did it, Maura. Changing my name on all _my_ publications would have given me a heart attack. And yet, here you are, composed as always, and with twice as many." Dr. Polanski laughed, a joke about the bureaucracy of academia made ignorant of the heavy context of the Rizzoli marriage.

She and Maura hugged, and this allowed Maura to hide her faltered features. "It was… an interesting process to say the least. But, I wasn't attached enough to the Isles name to keep it," though it was a truthful statement, the real reason ran deep below the surface of anything said aloud - _I dropped my father's surname as quickly as I could._

Dr. Polanski nodded, sensing that there were things Maura would not say, and then let Nina take her through the install.

Maura blushed when Jane looked at her, but there was a soft acceptance in her eyes. "See you tonight?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Maura replied, and then bowed out with some grace and a racing mind, leaving the detectives for her lab.


	13. Hollalude

A/N: This chapter does some case groundwork, and some emotional groundwork. Thank you for reading and reviewing! Let's see if we can hit 200 reviews for this story. That's never happened to me before!

Also, I'm always open to talking one on one about the story, or anything really. You can PM me or visit my profile to find me on social media if you want.

Now let's get back to Jane and Maura.

* * *

" _But I'm not sick!" Elena whined at Maura as they drove through the streets of Cambridge. Before the crumbling of her parents' marriage, she complained mildly - now, she stamped her foot on the Prius floor and crossed her arms so hard that her face turned red. And this was exactly why Maura had decided for them to go to therapy - Elena had suddenly become the mirror image of all of Jane's… less desirable traits._

" _You're right, my love, you're not. You're healthy, strong," she tried flattery, something that always worked with Jane. "but look at this empirically. Don't you think someone from the outside of our circumstances should weigh in?"_

 _Not many 6 year olds new the meaning of empirical, but Elena had an exceptional awareness of context clues. "We're not doing an experiment."_

 _She simply meant at this moment, in the car, but Maura still sobered. "You're right again. We're not, and perhaps we shouldn't treat it that way. But do this for me, ok? Mommy has been… so tired, baby. So tired. And she knows that a therapist might help that. I also know that you've been sad, and I've been sad, too. Sometimes, talking about those sad feelings can help us deal with them better."_

 _Elena, arms still crossed, looked out the car window, refusing to let her mother see that she wanted to cry._

* * *

"Look, Mr. Green, I get it. Your company deals with highly sensitive information - most companies do. It's just the nature of business, alright? Trust me. I know all about confidentiality," Jane sat at the glass meeting table of a conference room of a Boston high rise. The sun tried to peak out from behind dense clouds, but even in the all-window room, she could feel the rain in her hands.

Mr. Green sat across from her in a suit that shouted his wealth. Maura would have known the designer, the cut, the components, but Jane only heard _money_. She locked eyes with him and awaited a response. "I am truly sorry about Mark's death, truly. It is a shame. But from all that I've heard, it was a suicide. A tragic circumstance, not murder. So why is homicide knocking on my door?" he asked, running a hand through his cropped gray hair.

"Because, Mr. Fiers' death was ruled suspicious, and we have to follow protocol until that's cleared," she said. _And because I have a feeling it was a little more than just suspicious._ "Now no one is a suspect of anything yet, but it would help our investigation tremendously if you gave us access to the e-mails and other work documents of the people on the list I provided you." She tapped a fingernail on the paper about halfway between them.

"And why, again, are these e-mails pertinent to your investigation?"

"There was a… a note found on a computer that belonged to G&C International, and about 50 or so people have had access to that computer since it was purchased," she explained, gesturing to the building around the two of them.

Mr. Green watched her, and his eyes darkened with what she knew as the frustration of defeat. "You'll need to bring me a court order."

"I can arrange that," Jane countered, leaning in and narrowing her brow.

"That would be best," said Mr. Green. He stood, signaling the end of their conversation. Jane stood too, an inch or two taller in her boots, and held out her hand for him to shake.

He did. She imagined that, had she not come up to his office conducting an inquisition on his workers, they could have leveled with one another. Instead, he showed her to the door, and didn't wait to watch her enter the lobby where Frankie waited with his nose in a magazine.

"He hand everything over real nice like?" He asked, and Jane punched his shoulder.

"Oh yeah, guy was a peach," she said. "He asked for a subpoena."

"And you're gonna give it to him," Frankie smiled, toothily. His sister winked at him.

"Course I'm gonna give it to him. Call up Judge Franklin."

* * *

Mike Fiers now lay on a morgue slab under the scalpel of the Chief Medical Examiner. Maura never knew anything more beautiful than a human exposed, all of its inner workings on display, its fine-tuned viscera taking their curtain call, and Mr. Fiers housed an exceptional cast - his heart was healthy, red, and strong, and it fit the contours of his lungs like…. like how she fit Jane the night before Elena's trip.

God.

 _Like how she fit Jane_. That was the first place her mind wandered? With her penchant for metaphor and her IQ, all she could come up with was the image of herself wrapped around Jane in vintage Rizzoli-Isles fashion? The thought tempered the bloody curvature of her scalpel against a kidney. It was cold in her hands, opposite to the way Jane's heart grew warmer in them by the day.

She should not be holding that heart they way she held so many bits and pieces of Mr. Fiers, was her last thought before the plunge. She commanded a deft grip and a swift slice, sure, but her with her own uncertainty, albeit diminishing, and Jane's fragility…

She shuddered at the combination and its possibilities, licked her lower lip in renewed concentration behind her goggles. The bean-shaped organ gave easily enough under her touch, and when she cut into it, the dissection crisp despite her wandering mind, her eyes widened.

"Ethylene glycol…."

* * *

"Hey, I got your voicemail, everything alright? Elena ok?" Jane burst through the swinging doors of the autopsy suite to the soundtrack of her clacking boot heels.

Maura looked up from her scale, latex gloves spotted in Mr. Fiers' poisoned blood. "Yes, she's alright," she said, hesitant and a little confused. "Why?"

"You, uh, you only call me when it's about her," said Jane, awash in relief. Its warmth made her open, and so she walked to Maura's side, stopping just inches from her.

Maura breathed in lavender and the copper tang of Mike Fiers' liver. "Don't worry. She's fine," she said, placing a dry wrist against Jane's sternum. "Angela just picked her up from school."

Jane nodded, gaze intent on Maura's lips, on the wispy spin of her fair hair, and let the flush on her chest ground her. "Ok. So what's up?"

"I am about to rule Mr. Fiers' death a homicide, and I thought you should be the first to see why," Maura said, leading Jane to a back table. Mr. Fiers' open kidneys rested on its surface, burgundy spotted by crystals of yellow-white, and she pointed to them.

Jane peered over Maura's shoulder and winced. "Ouch. Antifreeze?"

"It's possible. I'm still waiting on the tox screen, but I went over the photos and notes from the scene, and Mr. Fiers was not in possession of any ethylene glycol. As a staunch environmentalist, he didn't even own a car."

"Shit, that's it," Jane smirked, dark as always when on the hunt. She grabbed Maura and kissed her hard enough to feel her teeth behind her lips. "You're a genius."

Maura blinked, bloody hands still up and open near her wildly-beating heart. "Yes. But this finding was… routine." _Kiss me again._

"This _routine finding_ is going to guarantee my subpoena for G&C, Maura," said Jane.

"You didn't have the subpoena in place before you set up Dr. Polanski?!" Maura asked, eyes wide.

"I knew you'd come through," Jane shrugged. "And we didn't have the time to wait until today. I needed her set up now, because otherwise we'd be waiting another week for Nina to get all her ducks in a row."

Maura shook her head and chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder how you've kept your job so long."

"Hey oh, hey," warned Jane.

"Oh no, I don't mean anything by that. You have made me realize that sometimes weaving through the system and living in the gray areas is what makes you a superb detective."

Jane blushed, twitched her nose, and adjusted the gun at her hip with a rough tug. "Yeah well. If you live by the red tape, you'll drown in it."

Maura nodded and snapped off her soiled gloves. "Perhaps you're right," she said moving toward Jane and putting up her hands to brush imaginary lint away from her blazer's shoulders.

"Hi," breathed Jane. Fluorescent lights played in her eyes.

Maura chuckled softly and smiled. "Hi. Any word on Sunday dinner?"

" _Shit,"_ said Jane. "It's been months," she sighed in exasperation. Maura's thumbs stroked the fabric, flesh, and bone under them.

"That it has," she replied.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got an update a few days ago. We're having it at your place, Ma said, and on Saturday. Around 5 o' clock. Apparently she's meeting up with Aunt Teresa on Sunday."

Maura smiled. The familiarity of it all, the ease in her conversation with Jane, made her dizzy, but she didn't want to step away. "5 works for me. And I'm sure Elena will be glad to have the routine back in her life."

"I hope so. That kid deserves some routine."

"Your mother originally wanted neutral ground for this," Maura said, unable to hold in her confession any longer.

Jane sobered, her face no longer playful. "Yeah, I know. And it was a good idea."

Maura simply nodded and dragged her hands back to her own sides. "It is. But I don't want to have it anywhere else. I want you to feel more comfortable in my home again, like we talked about those few nights ago."

"I know, it's just gonna suck for you, and I don't want that. You're gonna be walking into a Rizzoli zoo."

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah, but at least we've always been on good terms," Jane explained. "Now we're not. It's not really my place to protect you from them anymore."

"Well, I appreciate your chivalrous feelings, and if I needed protecting, you're the one I'd want to do it," Maura said. "But I don't, because they're my family too."

Jane seemed to take everything in for a moment, and then she whispered, "what do we tell them?" Her smile and subsequent stare were sad, and lost - she looked to Maura for help as she floated god knows how far from home, how far from at ease.

Maura wished she were ready to comfort her. "Nothing, if we don't want to. But, I will say that I won't lie, Jane. I won't give details, but I won't hide from questions, either. You and I are separated, that's only factual, something they clearly know. They needn't know that we have recently decided to… talk about things and see where it leads, unless they specifically ask."

Jane fought the urge to run, and to beg Maura to pretend with her, even if for a night or two. _You run because you're afraid of being vulnerable_ , she heard Dr. Harley's voice in her head, and steeled her stance. "Ok. Should I bring anything?"

* * *

"Everything ok?" Frankie asked as he watched his sister stride back into the bullpen from a short lunch.

"Yeah, it's good," said Jane. She lowered herself into her desk chair and motioned for him to sit, sparing a glance to Korsak's desk. "Old man picked a fine time to go on vacation."

"Guess he and Kiki're traveling to spend Thanksgiving with her family in a couple days in Aspen. Beats me why they wanted to drive," Frankie said. He shrugged, but noted the curves and contours of his sister's face. "Why? You got somethin'?"

"Yeah. Maura ruled our suspicious death a homicide."

"No shit? How?"

"Guy had been ingesting antifreeze, but no sign of antifreeze anywhere near his place. Didn't even drive, took public transportation everywhere because he was an environmentalist," Jane said, leaning in as though it were the narrative of the century.

Whether it was or not, Frankie ate it up all the same. "So the company's in the bag."

"In the bag, little brother. Dr. Polanski will come in on Wednesday and get to work on helping me nail one of those bastards."

"Speakin' of, I got a few of my own subpoenas this mornin', did a little diggin' around while you were canoodling in the morgue," at his words, he received a glare from Jane strong enough for him to roll his chair back a foot or two. " _And_ I found something a little off about a few of the people who had access to this computer."

"Keep talkin'," Jane said, hands intertwined and elbows on her armrests.

"So, a lot of 'em are part of a team, under one supervisor, Peter Zalinski," he started, "and they work in accounting. Pretty mid-level stuff. They make good money, but none of them are standouts."

"O… kay…" Jane goaded.

"That supervisor likes to gamble, though."

"Oh? What kind of gambling we talkin' here?"

"All kinds, it looks like. Guy had to file for bankruptcy about ten years ago. He seems to have made the slow climb back, but he's been spending a lot of money lately on a few of these new sports betting sites."

"Well, it's not exactly illegal, but it could be a start."

"Get this, though: he belongs to a group on every single one of these sites - like he's a moderator. And you know who the other group members are?"

"Who?"

"His employees. And Fiers is one of them."

* * *

"Maura was open to my idea of talking," said Jane as she slid back into her chair in her therapist's office on that frigid Friday evening. She squeezed the stress ball in her hand in quick, short pumps.

"Talking about what?" Dr. Harley asked. To her credit, she seemed genuinely perplexed, with her legs crossed and her eyes blinking.

Jane smirked. Her therapist damn well remembered, but she supposed she could play along to keep the integrity of the session alive. "Us. What happened back in February. We did earlier this week, a little bit, but not as much as I would have liked."

"I see. How would you have wanted things to go?"

"I uh, I dunno. It wasn't bad, just… cut short," Jane contemplated Dr. Harley's question for a while. "I didn't get to say what I wanted to say."

"Well, how about we practice here? Want to tell me what you would say to her, if you had the time, if it went how you would've liked?"

"Do I want to?" asked Jane, her scoff not really taken personally by the doctor, but still present. "Not really."

Dr. Harley surveyed her sitting there, all jiggling knee and tight fists, and jotted down a few notes. "Why not?"

Jane grew irritable, and her masseter clenched against her jaw in pulses. "I don't want to."

Dr. Harley adjusted her body, leaned forward in her chair. "I see that. I would like you to explain why to me, if you could."

Jane sighed with regret. Her knee stilled; her stare relaxed. "Uh, yeah, ok. Because… I guess because I want her to be the first to hear it."

"Hmm. It's an intimacy you want to keep between the two of you."

"Maybe. We don't get much of that these days."

"I see. Are you no longer sleeping together?"

Jane reddened. "We are." a pause and then a rush of words. "It's getting better."

"The sex is getting better."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, rawer, more… involved. What was the word you used? Intimate. But I can see that she's still so hesitant to let me in. And that's gonna be solved by talking, I think. Not by fucking."

"And she agreed to it? To talk to you?"

"Yeah," said Jane. "Though, I don't know how much a pipe dream it is for her to hear it first, since she wants… mediation."

"Mediation? Like a third party?"

"I guess so. She said she's still too pissed for us to talk alone. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Can, um, can you do it?"

Dr. Harley broke into the first tooth-filled grin Jane had ever seen on her. "I'm sorry, Jane. I really am. I don't do couples counseling. I am flattered, however. And, I can give you a few names that come highly recommended if that's what you'd like."


	14. Mine

A/N: I really like this chapter. I don't even know why. It was just fun to write. Thank you all for your reviews and favorites on last chapter! Here's ch. 14.

* * *

" _Mamma, your new house is so small," Elena let out a huff as she laid on the couch, back to the seat cushions and feet stretching as far as they could for toes to graze the coffee table._

 _Jane swallowed harshly as she helped her mother layer the lasagna in the kitchen. "I know, Ballgame. But this is what I've got for now, so you're gonna have to pitch in and help it feel like home." Angela patted her wrist at the sight of a clenched lower jaw._

" _How?" The girl shouted over the back of the sofa, the one Maura had bought Jane when her old one finally gave out. For a moment, Jane didn't want to answer._

" _Well, you've got crayons and some paper there," she said, "draw me somethin', Picasso."_

" _Like what?" Elena had turned to asking questions in a petulant tone in recent months. Angela had to remind Jane that it was to be expected and she shouldn't lash out._

 _She almost did anyway. "Your choice kid. Whatever it is, I'll frame it."_

" _Ok," Elena sighed. She slid off the couch and sat on the floor near the table to get to work._

" _How are you doing, baby?" Angela asked of her daughter when they were finally convinced Elena was too preoccupied to hear them._

" _Pissed that Maura thinks I need a chaperone with my own daughter," said Jane through gritted teeth._

" _Jane, Jane look at me," Angela grabbed her shoulders and they locked eyes. "Three things: one, it's the first Sunday dinner that we're going to have since everything happened. Don't ruin it by being angry. Two, you agreed to this - you know that if Maura is going to give you any kind of chance, you have to abide by these rules, at least for a little while. And three, well, three is the most important."_

" _Ok…"_

" _But you have to promise to listen to it. You've been so mad all the time, and I get it, okay? But you aren't hearing anything anyone is saying because you're so mad. Your brothers feel like they don't know you anymore and while I know better, I feel the chill, too. So hear me."_

" _A'right, a'right, I'm listening."_

" _Three. You put my grand baby in danger, Jane. You took her to a shoot-out-"_

" _Ma-"_

" _No. You let me finish. Maura has every right to be livid with you -_ I _was livid with you. There is nothing more precious on this Earth than your kids, Jane. And you threw hers into the gauntlet - that's why it's only the three of us here, in this tiny dump, instead of our whole family. Having someone around while Elena visits is a mild punishment, one I wouldn't even have considered if your father had done that to you."_

* * *

"Now, the interface is simple, I know," Dr. Cheryl Polanski weaved from around her chair in BRIC toward the biggest screen against the wall and pointed to the program through which she ran e-mails, poems, blog posts, essays, letters, and any other data she could possibly use. "But it works. And I thought that you might like to see just how, Detective Rizzoli."

"You were right," Jane said. She stood in front of the software, appraising it with a harsh line in her forehead as though she could intimidate it into submission.

Maura stood next to her, smirking at Jane's warring pride and desire to learn. "Personally, I can't wait, Cheryl."

"You guys are gonna love this," said Nina, at the helm of her standing station, as always. "Well, Maura - you're gonna love this. Jane, you'll like what it means for your case."

"Well alright then, fire it up," Jane said, holding a hand out toward the screen.

"We've taken the samples that you gave us this morning, and I had my interns parse the sentences in each document to look for auxiliary verbal patterns. Now, we parse for several other patterns, both at the sentence level and the word level, but I will use this one for my example," Dr. Polanski, back to her colleagues, used a laser pointer to highlight the areas of a text that were easiest to demonstrate her point.

"Ingenious. So, you look at morphology as well?" asked Maura, walking over to her side.

"Well, yes. But, abstract syntactic structures are best. Basically, the theory is that they are difficult to disguise or emulate," Dr. Polanski said.

"Because they are so automatized and unconscious," Maura said, "brilliant. Simple and brilliant."

"Ok, but what does that all mean? What does this actually _do?"_ interrupted Jane, who drew a giggle from Nina still in the back.

"Ah yes, the most important part, Detective. The applicability of this all," Dr. Polanski smiled at her in good nature and a little teasing. "When I run these results through the chi-square test, I'll get numbers that tell us if the text belongs to a certain author, or if the unknown text can be grouped with a cluster of known samples. Strong and empirical court evidence. The only drawback is that it will take us a few days to comb through all this data."

Maura looked to Jane, whose stare filtered through twenty or so different emotions before settling on determination. _She understood_.

"What's the success rate?" Jane asked.

"Anywhere from 91 to 95 percent," answered Dr. Polanski. Her confidence bolstered Jane enough to grunt her satisfaction.

* * *

On early Saturday evening, Tommy and Jane, the latter carrying a slumped TJ in her arms, pushed into Maura's home with a rush of icy air. "It's so cold out there that TJ just gave up," Jane commented to no-one in particular. She let the young boy slide off of her puffy coat and take his father's hand toward the bathroom.

"Kid's not feelin' too jazzed about being out in the Boston winter - 9 years old and he let Aunt Janie carry him all the way through the door. Dinner in the oven?" Tommy said through a smile when Maura approached from the dining room.

"Yes, should be about another half-hour or so," she said, giving both he and TJ a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Ok, I'm just gonna help him wash up and then set him up in the study for a little while. Him takin' a nap will be good for all of us, trust me," he explained as he disappeared with his son down the hall.

Maura looked at Jane then, droplets of snow water in her black hair, still the perfect, paradoxical mix of debonair and unassuming. In an act of boldness, she leaned a hand on her chest and kissed her lips. The kiss itself was chaste: knowing, but soft - no anger, just sadness, and a little bite.

It surprised Jane. Her brow narrowed and after she kissed back, she twitched her nose. "Hi."

"Hi. Just returning your favor from the other day. I'm glad you're safe. How was the drive?" Maura asked, and regret pulsed between her temples at the sight of Jane's discomfort.

"Fine. Tommy's too chicken to drive in the snow and Lidia's real sick, so I picked up him and TJ," Jane replied. "Speakin' of, where's _my_ kid?"

"In the other house with your mother and your other brother and Nina. I guess they needed four sets of hands to get the dessert?"

Jane walked over to the coffee maker and started a cup. "Jesus. We having more guests I don't know about?"

"No," Maura followed. "I think Angela is just… excited."

Jane shrugged. "It's a good thing, this dinner. But do we need a whole buffet table of _cannuli?"_

Maura's cheeks reddened at the effortlessness of Jane's Sicilian-American, something that, every so often, revealed itself - an heirloom that all the Rizzoli children owned, but that she wore best. "I'm thankful to you for that, you know." Suddenly, things needed to be said - things that could not be stifled anymore.

"For what?" Jane asked, dumping entirely too much creamer in her mug.

Maura let it slide. "For your language. For humoring me and teaching her Sicilian riddles, for calling her Sicilian names, for… for singing her Sicilian lullabies," she would have continued, but her sudden crying jag interrupted.

"Oh, hey, hey, hey," said Jane, running over to the other side of the island and wrapping Maura up in a hug. "What's this all about?"

Maura scoffed. "What's this all about? Our marriage has fallen apart! It's broken, and, and, I don't know how to fix it," she said on a swallow, "But I know that I just… appreciated you so much. And I appreciate you so much because you gave our daughter a heritage I never had growing up, something I still have a hard time understanding, and…"

"Well," said Jane in an attempt to ease the tension, "There was some Motown in there, too, I'm pretty sure. You could at least understand those."

Maura gasped in a failed attempt to chuckle. "There was. Lots of Motown over the baby monitor at 3 a.m. I'm sorry - I don't know why cannoli are making me so emotional."

They laughed together then, emboldened by each other. "You're a Rizzoli. We've all cried over them at least once. But if you appreciate me so much, then let me come home, honey. _Please_." Jane stamped her foot and whined when she pulled back, like she had so many times in the past for so many other reasons more trivial than the survival of her family.

"I'm… I'm not ready yet, Jane. I'm not. Something is holding me back and as much as I want to know what it is…" Maura mused, hands on her wife's shoulders, eyes on the counter to the side of them, "and I know you know I'm hesitant. I know that's why you looked so out of sorts when I kissed you just now."

"It just caught me a little off guard, is all. Wanna try again, while everyone is conveniently not around?" Jane said. She forced a raised eyebrow and then a wink, but nothing was fake about the way she went to hug Maura again, this time with a wide stance and erotic slowness to the wrap of her arms.

Rather than brace herself for the sexuality headed straight for her, Maura, however, put out her hands on Jane's Patriots sweatshirt. "You and I have always been good at the physical aspect of our relationship, haven't we?"

"Yeah…" Jane said, caution in the depth of her vowel.

"It's always been the best way you show me you love me, even now," said Maura, "and that's why I want to apologize."

"What for?"

"For stepping over the boundaries that I put in place almost a year ago."

"Look, Maura. It wasn't just _you_ fucking _me_."

"Mmm, definitely not. But I started it. And I want to apologize for that, for hurting you. I don't want to stop… being physical, but I promise that I know it was wrong, to try and hurt you with it," she answered, and Jane listened.

Then Jane kissed her. The tenderness of it resembled their kiss hello, but the openness of it smacked of an addictive elixir of progress and hesitation. Maura let her body slide against Jane's, let the smell of laundry detergent and coffee and always that hint of lavender settle right between her closed eyes, and let her own hands rest on the handsome Rizzoli jawline that was just starting to feel warm again after being out in the Beacon Hill cold.

"Holy shit."

However, at Tommy's whispered exclamation, they flew apart. He stood in the hall, TJ successfully down for a nap, a _what-the-fuck_ look successfully planted on his face.

"God dammit!" exclaimed Jane, hand to forehead. She exhaled through flared nostrils when he didn't move. "We're going to therapy on Monday, a'right? Get your panties out of a fuckin' bunch."

Finally, after an eternity of seconds, he broke into a shit-eating grin that would make Frankie proud. "Therapy, huh? Like gettin' back together therapy?"

Maura found it funny how circumstance and person-to-person basis could change her response to the Boston accent from excitement to annoyance. Tommy's indulgent face, dashing as it was, didn't help that annoyance. "Like… figuring out where we stand therapy," she offered, her tone clipped.

"I knew you guys couldn't stay broken up. _I knew it,_ " said Tommy, and bless his heart, he looked like a kid on Christmas.

"Hey, did you not just hear the lady? Literally nothing is figured out yet," Jane all but barked.

Her brother put his hands up, but his smile remained. "Ok, Janie, ok."

"And do me a favor, will ya? Don't tell Ma about this. Let me do that."

"About the two of you gettin' back together?" at this question of his, Jane leaned forward, near ready to attack. He revised, needless to say. "I _mean,_ about you two being on better terms?"

" _Any_ of this," Jane replied, motioning between the three of them.

"Ok, lips are sealed," he said.

"Why are your lips sealed, baby?" they ended their conversation just in time, too, because Angela walked through the door at that moment, with a trail of helpers behind her, already asking questions.

"If I told you, there wouldn't be a point to sealing them, Ma," Tommy said. His eyes grew large at the sight of the tray of cannoli in her hands, and Jane smacked his hand preemptively. "Ow!"

"Christmas isn't that far away. You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?" she said, earning a look from Maura which she smiled in return to.

"Oh, I love surprises! But I swear, Janie. If you kids sign me up for any kind of sports camp, you will never eat in my house again," said Angela. She leveled a gaze at all three of her children.

"Alright, no more kickboxing," Jane acquiesced. "But I swear that isn't it." _Because we haven't decided on anything yet._

"And no batting practice or football drills, either. The three of you play enough for our entire family, dead and alive. Now sit, chat. This food isn't gonna be done for awhile."

"And as you can see, Ma thought it fit to bake for all those dead and alive Rizzolis," Frankie snarked behind her. Both he and Nina carried a pie.

"Good news is, there is an option for literally everyone," Nina offered, trying to keep the atmosphere light despite her boyfriend's sour comment.

"I bet there's no complaints from Giuliana Ballgame, is there?" said Jane. She kneeled to receive the generous hug waiting for her.

" _Nanna_ let me lick the filling bowl," whispered Elena into Jane's hair, and her mother laughed.

"Lucky," she said back. She picked Elena up and squeezed her, reveling in the squeals and grunts it elicited, putting her down only when the hands on her shoulders became truly insistent. "You do anything to help besides eat?"

"Yes! I put the pistachios on!" Elena said, scandalized, with a rounded mouth she adopted from Maura.

Maura, who laughed at the statement. "Quit picking on her, Jane."

Jane only rolled her eyes. "Nobody's pickin'."

* * *

"Pass the _cudduru,_ Ballgame," Jane asked of the daughter sitting next to her. Elena passed the bread dutifully, just after ripping her piece to dip through her lasagna's sauce.

"I knew Italian was the perfect choice for our first family dinner," Angela smiled at the sight of the both of them, lit up under the bulbs of Maura's dining room.

"Not that I'm complainin', but don't we always have Italian?" asked Tommy on the other side of his niece.

She laughed, and Angela shot him a glare. "I'll have you remember that last time we sat here, I made a roast," she said. The ensuing clang and bang of silverware on China, raucous in the absence of speech, signaled that it had been the awkward thing to say.

But, Maura, who sat at her side, patted her wrist. "I, for one, am glad that we can do this again. So, thank you, Angela. And it's delicious, as always."

Jane looked at her, moved by the sentiment, and Maura smiled at her in return. They shared a moment together then, with Jane's hand at the back of their daughter's head.

* * *

"So…" started Tommy now that Angela had taken her grandchildren upstairs for a story and some quality time. "I'm just gonna ask."

"Ask what?" Frankie was the first to speak up, and he put his cup of coffee on the end table next to him.

"Am I the only one that, you know, knows?" Tommy asked, wiggling his eyebrows in the direction of Maura and Jane, who washed dishes together under the soft light above the kitchen sink.

"That they're sleeping together? We both know," said Nina as she pointed to Frankie and then back to her.

"They're sleepin' together?!"

"Pipe down, will ya?!" Frankie whispered harshly, pulling on his collar, suddenly desperate for a little air.

"You kiddin' me? I walked in on them kissin' and they acted like it was the first time!"

"Oh no, honey. They've been at it for like a month," shrugged Nina, as though the bomb that she had just dropped wasn't one.

"A frickin' month?! And you didn't think to tell me?" Tommy said, his eyes wide as he pointed to Frankie.

"Hey, oh, hey! Janie swore me to secrecy!" Frankie said.

"Trust me, Tommy, I know that's not a good reason. I didn't talk to him for two days when I found out that he knew," Nina offered. She put a hand on Tommy's wrist.

Frankie rolled his eyes. "Would you two give it a rest? Say what you want, but I am _not_ telling Janie's secrets and riskin' her findin' out. Plus, what does it matter to you? It's not like it's any of our business."

"Because she's my sister!" Tommy yelped, quite comically in the hushed tones they insisted on using, "and you know how many nights I been up thinking about her, knowin' she's not happy unless she's with Maura? And she's _been_ with Maura!"

"Aw, that's sweet," Nina's starry eyes and hand to her chest prompted his gloating look to Frankie.

"See that? I'm sweet. But none of that matters because they're together. _Finally._ "

Nina sighed - she knew it was too good to be true, especially given the simplicity that men sometimes carried themselves with. _He tried, at least_. "They're not together. They're… sleeping together, but they're not together."

"Then why are they going to couples therapy tomorrow?" asked Tommy, genuinely curious, generally unaware of his own dropped bomb and its radius.

"They what?" Frankie and Nina gasped in unison - how had they missed _that?_

* * *

"You know what I've noticed?" Maura asked as she handed Jane another plate to place in the dishwasher.

"What's that?"

"Your daughter likes to tell you secrets."

"What do you mean?"

"She loves to whisper in your ear, to feel conspiratorial with you."

Jane stopped, looked up, and shrugged her shoulders with a smile. "You mean tonight? I guess. She was telling me she got to lick the _cannuli_ bowl. She just likes to share secrets in general. Remind me not to tell her anything embarrassing."

Maura smirked, hands and eyes not leaving the suds in the sink. "She told me something that Frankie confided in her the other day."

"Well, what was it?"

"Your mother's right, you know. You're very nosy."

"You started this whole conversation!"

"You're right, I did. But you're not going to like it."

Jane rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Maura. Tell me. Was it about his midnight mass fiasco at St. Paul's?"

"Definitely not," Maura shook her head. She dried her hands, turned to Jane and tugged her a little closer. She fought a laugh. "She told me that he said he made out with Stacy King in the 10th grade."

Jane blushed scarlet. Well, Maura assumed it was a blush - it could also have been an acute expression of rage because she immediately began to stomp toward her brother. "That son of a bitch."

"Hey, hey," said Maura with an arm out to stop her and a full-blown guffaw, "don't. He was young. You all were young."

"He… _macked_ on my first and only… maybe-girlfriend!" Jane whisper-yelled. "You know how crazy I was about her?"

"Yes! Yes, I do," chuckled Maura, pulling Jane to her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," at her words, Jane grumbled but accepted the hand to her belly and the one to her face. "But that was so long ago - you've had plenty of time to… find better things."

"We're talking about you and me."

"Aren't we always?" asked Maura, hugging Jane tight. "Let me help you forget Stacy King ever existed," she purred against a prominent clavicle.

"So, this is you not stoppin', huh?" Jane asked right back with teasing, but her hand stayed flat between Maura's shoulder blades as she returned the embrace.

Maura shrugged, and she felt the ripple hit Jane's fingertips. "Elena has her first communion class in the morning; I'll even let you stay so that you can take her." She pulled back, however, when Jane bristled instead of melted. "What? What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to ask me to stay because Elena needs me, or it's convenient, or it's snowing too hard. I want you to ask me to stay because _you_ want me to," Jane said.

Maura stared at her for a long moment, again cognizant of Jane's throbbing heart in her hands. "I-"

With the buzz of a cellphone between them, though, Jane held up a finger and answered, stepping away. "Rizzoli. Yeah, Dr. Polanski - that's great. I'll be right over."

"Jane?"

"That was Dr. Polanski. She's got a match on the note and one of the author groups. It's Pete Zalinski – I'm heading over to BPD right now. I'm uh… I'm not saying no by the way. Let me come back?"

Maura's hands were back on her then. "I'll wait up for you."

"You will?"

"I will."


	15. Modern Age

A/N: The song that inspired this chapter is "Modern Age," by Anberlin. They are my favorite band of all time and this song is... it's very meaningful to me. I think of it in this context as an impassioned plea to a hurting Maura. Some time keeping comments: It has now been around nine months since SolCorp., late November. Elena's seventh birthday will be in late January, so she is still six.

After this, there are only a few installments left. I can't thank you enough for experiencing _Pyrite_ with me.

* * *

" _Look, Andre," Jane Rizzoli stared down the man she_ knew _killed his wife_ _and had the balls to lie to her about it. "Regina put you guys in a lot of credit card debt - I get it, I been there. Feeling that helpless will make a man capable of things he normally wouldn't do." Was it true? Sort of. Regina had a habit of buying shoes she couldn't afford, but Andre had a habit of betting entire paychecks on football._

" _I didn't kill her," said he, with an attitude cool enough to make Jane's blaze in response. He folded his arms in disinterest. "You're right, you know. Bitch was running our finances into the ground. But I didn't kill her."_

 _Jane breathed long and slow and closed her eyes. She fought to keep her headache at bay, though it lapped at the shores of her skull, relentless. She watched Andre sneer at her from across the table, and the way the dim light over head played against his features made him look even more smug._

I need his confession, _she repeated the mantra over and over in her head, knowing that she was not exactly the crime lab's best friend at the moment, and hating that fact all the same. "We've got physical evidence to put you in the room in which she was found around the time of death," she half-lied. They had physical evidence of him in that room of the couple's home, but it couldn't be pinpointed to time of death._

 _And Andre was no fool. He saw right through it. "Bullshit - I live in that house. Of course there's gonna be fingerprints and DNA and shit in my own damn TV room. Ain't no way you can say any of it was put there when she died. You think I'm stupid?"_

 _Jane's fist curled in response. "No one said that-"_

" _Nah, you fucking listen now. If you don't have anything to charge me with, anything to keep me here, I'm fucking leaving. I ain't gonna be injected because of some hunch you dumb bastards have - my brother is a lawyer; I know my rights." He stood, chest out, looked downward at a still-seated Jane._

" _I don't care if your brother's the attorney general. Don't interrupt me, asshole," she said, in a tone so quiet that Andre strained to hear her._

" _The fuck you say to me?" He spat, his head moving with the way his eyes appraised her._

 _She looked up at him brazenly, without fear. "You heard me, but I'll repeat myself in case you were a little slow to catch on: don't. fucking. interrupt. me."_

" _I'll do what the fuck I want, bitch," he said in return, eyes alight with the satisfaction of getting under her skin._

 _The comment unleashed the flood of rage that had been building in Jane since that day at SolCorp's abandoned office. She flashed upright, sending her chair clattering to the ground, and reached over the table to slam Andre's head straight into the metal surface. "Say it again!" she yelled, and when he didn't, she pushed his skull yet another time._

 _The sick_ thwack _dazed him, but didn't stop her from picking him up and yanking him by the lapels of his jacket. "I swear to god-"_

" _Janie! Jane! Stop!" before she could do more damage, however, her younger brother barged in from the viewing room and grabbed her._

" _Let me go, Frankie! Fucking let me go!" She writhed and struggled against his grip, staring daggers at Andre as he sat dazed in his seat, until Frankie yanked her out into the hall and shut the door._

" _What the hell?! You'll be lucky if this case doesn't go all to shit because of that stunt you just pulled!"_

" _Get off my back. I know what the fuck I'm doing," seethed Jane, adjusting her blazer after Frankie let her go._

" _Yeah, and apparently you give no fucks that it's going to cost us a confession, and maybe a conviction. You better hope that Maura and her team come through with some pretty fucking fantastic evidence," he said, poking a finger into her chest._

 _She swatted him away. "Don't count on it. Those criminalists don't want shit to do with me right now. Maura don't want shit to do with me, either."_

" _Jesus, Jane. You need help," sighed Frankie with his hands on his hips. "You need to get this shit under control. It can't be bleeding over into work. You can't be assaulting suspects."_

 _Jane sat in Dr. Harley's office, no longer squeezing her stress ball, but merely holding its flattened shape in a vice grip._

" _You assaulted someone today, Jane. That's serious." it was the first time that she had heard Dr. Harley use anything other than a question in therapy._

 _She snarled and turned to signal her displeasure at the conversation. She didn't answer._

" _You were angry. Why? Why were you so mad today?"_

" _That bastard is gonna get away with killing his wife! And he was sitting there all smug, acting like he didn't do it!"_

" _So it's the fairness of it? It would seem to me that people deny committing crimes in your line of work all the time."_

" _Of course it's the fairness! That's my JOB," Jane was gesticulating wildly now, her arms wide and the stress ball flung to some neglected corner of the room. "That woman is dead and her fucking killer is gonna walk. Probably because of me!"_

" _And that is why you are so angry now?" Dr. Harley pursued, tone still tempered, strong notes of her register still measured and even._

" _I'm angry because I'm thinkin' about it! Because you brought it up! Because everyone's shitting on me for the decision I made on the Martinez case, and then the SolCorp case! Which I know, I know I fucked up. I should… I should have never… I should have never done that," Jane swallowed the knot in her larynx with no small amount of effort, "but I don't regret going after these bastards. I don't regret saving those people."_

" _Of course not. Your sense of duty is admirable. People gravitate towards you because of it. But has anger always been such an integral part of your pursuit of justice?"_

 _Jane cringed at the question, innocent though it may have been. "It's not anger. It's the drive - the hunt. It's the adrenaline rush that keeps us going."_

" _But you seemed very angry today. And when you tried to climb the back of that moving vehicle a month or so ago - you said that Maura had never seen you so mad. Why do you think that is?"_

" _Because that fucker was going to get away unless I stopped him!"_

" _And what about your colleagues? Can they help you? Can they stop them?"_

" _God - you're not a cop, you don't get it. I can't wait around for their help! I'm the only female homicide detective past or present - I'm the youngest to be promoted to detective. If anybody gets even a whiff that I've waited for someone to catch up, or that I asked for help - it's my fucking head. And it's been that way my whole career."_

" _Ah." Dr. Harley offered. She looked down to her legal pad and jotted a few notes._

 _Maybe Jane imagined its poignancy, but the sound was enough for her eyes to grow wide and for her to hang her head. "_ Ah manuggia," _she cursed, her sniffle a cacophony against the sudden quiet of the office. "It's a lot of pressure, you know?… A lot of pressure. And its always been a lot of pressure."_

* * *

"It's so cold out," said Maura. Her teeth chattered in the chill that hit her straight out of her Prius, worsened by the air in the sarcophagus that was the parking garage.

"It ain't so bad. Just used to it, I guess," Jane replied, blushing, standing, waiting by the door of her own cruiser. She had peeled into spot right next to Maura in the way that she always did: lax at the wheel, legs spread wide and elbow at the window - such a juxtaposition to the way Maura drove, to the way she felt, stiff and professional to compensate for the storm of nervousness just beneath her skin.

Jane had mercy, watched Maura's body shiver as they walked, and held out her elbow for her wife to take it and take advantage of her body heat.

"God, or because you're so warm," Maura shuddered when she felt Jane close. "But no, thank you." Their heels - Maura's stilettos and Jane's work boots - clattered and echoed against the parking garage of the medical building they approached, though Jane's held a little stomp of disappointment and Maura's a rush.

"Maybe. You usually want to touch me more now, you know."

Maura paused at the elevator's mouth. She chose her words carefully. "Yes."

"Is that a good thing? Should I take it as a good thing?"

"You know, I never stopped being attracted to you," Maura dodged, sidestepping further away as they waited for the car to arrive, "I never stopped wanting to touch you. I never stopped wanting you to touch me."

"You didn't answer me," huffed Jane, leading them into the elevator with an outstretched hand.

"I know," sighed Maura. "And I guess it depends on what you think is a 'good' outcome. I'm definitely less able to resist you."

"Except for right now."

"Even right now, resistance is hard." Maura looked ahead instead of at Jane, and her lips twitched in a barely-contained smile - the first of the evening.

This brought a smirk to Jane's own thin lips. "Well, I _barely_ resisted for those 8 months, so I guess you're in good company."

They arrived at their stop - an office on the fourth floor that belonged to Dr. Deon Bradley. He came recommended with the highest of praise from Dr. Harley, and on Monday night with the cold front settling in, his chairs were empty.

His setup was not the austere one of Dr. Harley's Beacon Hill practice. No, Dr. Bradley's quarters resembled the type of offices Jane was much more used to - plain industrial carpet, wooden chairs with pastel vinyl padding, a slide-away window which separated patients and assistants.

Long story short - Maura was out of her element, as evidenced by the way she locked Jane into place in the doorway, finally grabbing that elbow.

"I'm gonna sign us in," Jane whispered, but the vice grip on the crook of her arm loosened only when she said: "Sit."

When she put their names down on the chart and chatted up the assistant at the window for a few minutes, she returned to take a chair next to her wife, who crossed her legs and worried at the ring on her right middle finger - still absent was the considerably larger, more expensive ones on her left hand. "Not exactly fancy schmancy, huh?"

"That's not it," said Maura, perhaps in a little bit of a lie. She grabbed Jane's hand and began to rub slow circles at the dark lines in the center of her palm with a thumb - an unexpected artifact of affection from their past that drove Jane suddenly hot.

"Oh, you don't have to-" she tried to say, shifting in her seat, praying that the women and man behind the glass hadn't noticed, but she was interrupted.

"It's a nervous habit," Maura nearly yelped. "the gravity of what we are about to do just hit me, and… just let me do it. Please."

"Ok…" Jane said, torn between stopping her to maintain their last shred of public decency and being grateful for the relief of the ache in her hand. "Just breathe, Maura. It's gonna be fine. Trust me. I have plenty of practice, remember? Nine long, tortuous months of practice."

"Elena and I saw a counselor for four months. I should have kept us in longer, but she made such great strides so quickly…"

"She adjusted great - kids are resilient. Adults, not so much."

"I am… frightened of saying things that I don't mean. I'm frightened of what I might say to you in anger that I normally wouldn't."

"Well, don't be - that's the doctor's job. Mediator, remember? Everybody says heavy shit in therapy, and you might just tear me a new one. But hey, we'll get there. Maybe. Point is we're trying."

"You're right," Maura agreed, though her hands sweated around Jane's. "Talk to me about the case?"

"Um, sure. So, Peter Zalinski was a match for the note, as you and I found out on Saturday. But, he was on a business trip until tomorrow morning," said Jane.

"And why didn't you have him brought in?"

"We figured that if we contacted him to come home, he'd bolt. He's already in Dallas; who knows where he'd go? If they detained him till we could get there - our only shot would be a confession. And the guy's smart, Maura. He left a suicide note and no fingerprints on his clinically depressed employee's laptop - he knows we don't have any physical evidence to arrest him on. So, as soon as he gets back, we're going to tail him, buy the lab some time. Then I'll bring him in when you give me what I need." when Jane finished, her eyes flickered toward movement behind the door separating the doctors' rooms and the lobby.

"Well, we are grateful for that," Maura replied, nodding, oblivious toward the man looking over their file behind the glass.

"Listen," said Jane, turning to her, Jane who naturally noticed him. "No matter what happens, no matter what gets said in there, I _love_ you. And I know you can't say it back yet, not in the way I'm saying it now, but you need to know. I love you."

Maura nodded, green-brown eyes wild and a little confused, but believing nonetheless.

At that moment, Dr. Bradley emerged to call them forward. "Jane and Maura Rizzoli?" He asked. His voice flowed up from his lungs and melted out of his mouth, smooth to the ear. It was deep and it was dark, like his features. His natural hair stood up in short wisps on top of his head, and his smile spoke to years of professional, practiced kindness.

"Here we go," said Jane only loud enough for the both of them to hear, and then stood up to extend her hand towards him. "I'm Jane," she greeted. "This is Maura."

"Hi, Jane and Maura. I'm Dr. Deon Bradley," he said, taking her hand and grasping it with strength. Jane noted the shake's firmness and the clarity of his brown eyes, and she decided to be cautiously optimistic.

Maura let him take her hand as well, but shared with him a camaraderie that Jane never could. "Dr. Maura Rizzoli, it's a pleasure to meet you." For all her doubts, she sure could turn on the charm. Maura's professionalism was to be envied and studied, the way it took over her body and her words like a cloak, something others hid behind, but that she wore with authority and boldness.

Dr. Bradley smiled and nodded - he could relate. "Pleasure's all mine," he said, leading them to a small office furnished with shelves of medical journals, books on meaningful practice, and Chicago sports memorabilia.

"You're repping the wrong Sox here, Doctor," said Jane, smirking and pointing to the Paul Konerko bubblehead on his desk. Maura yanked her sleeve and her stare said something along the lines of _cut it out_. Jane only winked in reply.

"Good one. I _never_ hear that practicing in Boston," Dr. Bradley shot back, his grin belying his sarcastic tone.

"You know, Dr. Bradley, one of our detectives is from Chicago as well. Boston must be a popular relocation destination," Maura said as she sensed a mounting sports debate. _Oh how I haven't missed these._

"Oh yeah? Well, I figure we're used to the climate and the sports town feel, so it makes the transition easy enough. But I have family in Boston, too, so that was a plus." He said, grabbing a pen and a memo pad. He motioned to the small couch across from his own chair. "Now, if you don't mind, have a seat, you two, because we've only got an hour and that's never enough for the first session."

They did as told, neither quite sure how to sit so close to one another, both settling for as close to the armrests as possible.

The doctor chuckled at their nervousness, but said nothing of it. "I know we talked on the phone last week, but it always helps me if I explain how this works and ask you a few questions again in person. So… you ready?"

"Yeah," said Jane.

"Yes," Maura agreed. "You come highly recommended by Jane's therapist and my friend, Dr. Harley. I'm anxious to begin."

 _Anxious is exactly the right word,_ thought Dr. Bradley as he straightened the tie under his shawl-neck sweater. "Well, thank you. Maybe I should start off by saying that my method is a little different than Amelia's. She asks a lot of questions."

"You're not kidding," Jane responded, and he chuckled.

"I do, too, I guess. But my style is much more conversational. I believe that counseling is much more effective if my clients feel safe and able to express themselves. I'll be giving homework when I see fit, and we'll meet every other week. Any questions?"

"Yes," Maura, of course, raised a hand, "now, I know that marriage counseling often has a specific goal in mind, but if this counseling doesn't have one, will the format of your work change?"

Immediately Dr. Bradley put pen to paper. "You don't have a goal in mind?" he asked, raising his brow but not looking up.

"Well, not a typical one, or, or, a concrete one," she continued, and suddenly struggled for the right words. "Maybe Jane has one, but I think our goals might be different."

He looked up then. For several long moments he didn't speak, but instead crossed his legs and dusted off his fitted slacks. Then he smiled, looking only at Maura. "My methods remain mostly the same. But tell me what you really mean, Maura. Say what you really mean to say. Judging by the look on her face, Jane needs to hear it more than I do."

Maura sighed. "I know that Jane wants us to get back together. And I don't know if that's what I want. I… I feel like it's what I want, but I can't say for sure."

He nodded to her in thanks and acknowledgment.

"You get right into it, don't you?" asked Jane. She worried at her hands until he threw her a stress ball. She caught it.

"Talked to Dr. Harley," Dr. Bradley winked, then continued. "But yes, I do. Is her statement a shock to you?"

"No. I knew that coming in," Jane said.

"Ok, good. Whenever possible, I will encourage the both of you to be more forthright, more honest. Deal?"

Jane and Maura nodded, Maura with a little extra red around her cheeks.

"Cool. So, please forgive me, but I need to get real basic right now: why _are_ the two of you here? You must have something in common that you want if you're sitting here and not in a divorce lawyer's office right now." Dr. Bradley watched in interest when that comment made Maura fidget with her ring again. He looked to Jane, studied her, and saw a similar twitch.

"We uh, we've been separated nine months now," said Jane. She leaned in, elbows on knees, and squeezed the red ball in her left hand.

"Nine months is a long time," he said, without judgment. "What made you decide to come in now, and not then?"

"Special circumstances," she replied, with a gruff in her voice.

He noted the sore nerve, sought it out again, turned to Maura. "Special circumstances?"

"Jane… Jane is a homicide detective, and she did something that made me very angry earlier this year," she said. "I'm finally in a place where I feel like I can talk about it."

"Maura. Hear me when I say I appreciate your desire for privacy, but can you elaborate?" he asked, his kind eyes full of something she had seen in Jane's countless times: detective's tenacity.

She gulped in two or three oceanic breaths, and then exhaled. "In February, Jane took our daughter into a known active shooter situation and left her alone."

Jane was about to interrupt, but Dr. Bradley's hand stopped her. He motioned for her to remain quiet. "This is what has made you so angry."

Maura nodded, reaching for the box of Kleenex on the table that separated them, knowing that she would probably need it. "I'm still angry."

"Understandably. How is your daughter now?"

"Elena has more than adjusted. She and I saw a therapist together, starting in April, for four months."

"Well that's good to hear. Were you speaking to Jane at this time?"

"Barely. Weeks would pass in between times that I saw her. For a long time, I used her mother as a go between. She was not allowed to see Elena alone. Mostly."

Dr. Bradley nodded and jotted down a few sentences. "What changed? That you're now sitting here together?"

Maura chuckled and dabbed at her eyes. Jane looked to the ground. "Necessity. I can't parent my child alone; I won't let her grow up not knowing Jane. I guess I eventually was able to do away with being so mad for enough moments at a time to see her. We had a family dinner on Saturday, something we haven't done for almost a year, but nothing's perfect, or easy."

Finally, Dr. Bradley turned to Jane. "And Jane, I'm gonna ask you an obvious question. How does that all make you feel?"

"Like shit," she all-but whispered. She refused to look at either of them.

"Care to elaborate?"

"My family's in the shitter, I often can't take my kid out without a chaperone, which, hey, I guess I've come to accept. But I'm tired of being treated like a monster."

"You took Elena into a warzone! You left her alone while you went to play hero!" yelled Maura, the outrage returning to her with Jane's words, a dam that had been plugged for several months bursting again.

"I fucked up! I did. I should have never brought her. But how many times have I fucking said that in the past nine months, Maura?!" Jane shot back, her own floodgates never really having closed.

"Words don't fix something like this, Jane! You can't just say it away. You have a fucking problem - you're reckless and you endanger your life and your family's lives for people you don't even know, and only God knows why!" Maura said, through an onslaught of tears in her eyes and in her throat and on her cheeks. She refused, however, to look at Jane anywhere than in her face.

"And I've been getting help for that, like you fucking forced me to just so I could see my kid! When is it gonna sink in that I'm trying and I'm getting better? When am I going to have paid enough of a price to come back home? You can fuck me and you can eat dinner with my family, but you can't let me come back home?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop," Dr. Bradley put up his hands after letting them battle it out for a few minutes. "You two have slept together?"

Maura shuddered with the exit of her most recent sob. " _Are_ sleeping together," she confessed, lamented.

"Sleeping together? Present progressive tense? When was the last time?"

"Last night?" shrugged Jane, as though she wondered why such a fact was so compelling.

"Ok. Ok," Dr. Bradley said, sucking in a calming breath and regulating his surprised features. "I'm going to be real with you: that's not healthy."

The both of them looked sheepishly to the carpet below. The clock ticked on for what must have been three or more minutes, and he let them absorb what had just happened: their fight, and Dr. Bradley's admonition. He looked at them, looking at everything but each other, but bodies clearly inching closer together. Hands inching closer together. _Did they even realize?_

He sighed. "Jane is wearing her wedding ring, Maura, but you are not."

"I, I took it off when I was angry. I suppose it just hasn't occurred to me to put it back on," she replied, her darting eyes surprised by his comment, and also by her compulsion to answer to it.

"You haven't thought about it once in these nine months? Even when you have started to spend more time with Jane, specifically to have sex?"

Maura did not answer this time. Jane watched her as though doing so was the only way to continue living.

Dr. Bradley pursed his lips in sympathy at the sight of her. "Maura?" he goaded quietly. "Or is there something holding you back?"

Maura's face broke, and she hid it in her hands as her shoulders shook. Jane _tsked_ in sympathy and put a hand on her knee - in a surprising move, Maura didn't push it away, didn't hide her vulnerability. Quietly, and with a trembling voice, she turned to Dr. Bradley: "I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of this… this precipice, and I want to fall so badly. I'm so tired of trying to keep my balance, but I don't know if she'll catch me."

Those words navigated Jane into an emotional storm, though the only clouds to signal it were a loud sniff and watery eyes. She hung her head again, said nothing; Dr. Bradley took pity on her.

"Maura, the way you're feeling is valid, and understandable, especially given your circumstances. But can I ask you something?"

Maura nodded.

"Do you think you're ever going to get relief, or get an answer to what you're looking for, if you don't jump? Either way, don't you think it's the only thing that's going to get you some answers?"

"I… I honestly don't know. I can't have what happened in February happen again."

"Of course not. Jane," he said, making eye contact with her, "you're going to have to give her good enough reason to jump. To make her feel safe enough to jump off that cliff she's talking about."

"Yeah, course," she nodded. She took Maura's hand.

"Ok, good. Our time's up, it seems, Rizzolis. Your homework for this week is this: when you feel the compulsion to have sex, try to lay in bed and talk to each other instead. About anything, for twenty, thirty minutes. We'll see how you did when we meet again."


	16. Prisoner

A/N: the previous chapter contained the final flashback from 8-9 months in the past.

This flashback is in the very recent past, as hopefully you will pick up on. (P.S. - this chapter's song is "Prisoner" by The Weeknd.)

* * *

" _I thought… fuck… I thought we were supposed to be talking, Maura," Jane struggled to release the words, to release a breath, at the risk of all of the momentum of her orgasm slipping away._

 _Three steps from Dr. Bradley's lobby to the elevator, three minutes from the garage entrance to their cars, and three freeway exits from there to Maura's home, and not once did they consider_ not _blustering up the stairs and under the covers._

 _Under the covers was where Maura slithered now. Jane had never seen something so sinful like the way the silhouette of her wife' s head dipped and soared - an incursion of wet tongue and vicious kisses and flexing fingers to redden the worldliest of cheeks._

 _In fact, Jane herself writhed in time to the rhythm that Maura set, until she, naked and uncovered from the waist up, shuddered enough to come undone. On the fall back to reality, Maura's breath tickled a trail from between her wet thighs, to her navel, to her clavicle._

" _We will talk," Maura reasoned as she plopped next to Jane with more Rizzoli-gusto than Isles-grace. She looked down at her chest, the sheets pulled up and tucked under her arms, and closed her eyes to block out the flash of memory of her father's affair. "We should talk."_

" _Gimme a minute," said Jane. Her speech was all muffled bilabials and half-hearted vowels as she continued to sweat and bask._

 _Maura laughed. When Jane reached for her hand, she let it be taken. "Of course. I know it can be quite difficult to recover from my… handiwork."_

" _Ah, deflection through humor. You_ are _a Rizzoli, Doc," Jane replied, wagging her eyebrows._

 _Maura looked scandalized, truly so. "I don't do that, do I? God, I do," she sighed. "I've spent entirely too much time with all of you." It sounded, well, like she thought that time should come to an end, so she hastened to clarify. "But I suppose I'm in too deep now to stop."_

" _Another pun?" asked Jane, who studied the scar on her free hand._

 _Maura rolled her eyes. "No."_

" _So… what should we talk about? Dr. Bradley said anything."_

" _You have to know how much this… messed with my head, with my emotions. I've loved you and depended on you for so long - who do I trust if it isn't you? That makes me unsure of what to do, where to go. But," she said after awhile. "I know what I_ don't _want."_

" _What's that?"_

 _Maura rolled onto her side to be closer to Jane, kissed her shoulder. "To fight."_

" _We've been fighting a long time," Jane agreed._

" _And I've had my fill."_

" _So bring me home. All you have to do is say the word, and I'm back. No more fighting, way more loving," pleaded Jane for yet another time, alluring in the way passion mingled with the smell of her perspiration, in the way she begged with all her might and somehow, all of her dignity._

" _I… I'm close, Jane," said Maura, "I told you. I can't say what exactly it is, but I need… I need a little push."_

* * *

"He just landed, Janie."

Jane Rizzoli tore herself from the file in her lap and dropped her feet from her desk to the ground. "You serious?"

"Yeah," said Frankie. "Just got off the phone with our undercovers. They're gonna tail him till he gets to his house, and then they'll transfer the detail to us."

"Great, that's great, brother," she said, a little breathless and grabbing her blazer off of her chair in a flurry of movement.

"No, it's not. I have my performance review in ten minutes," he grumbled.

"So? You couldn't come anyway - Korsak's not here and I need you to get a warrant for this house if I see anything remotely suspicious."

He nodded and shrugged his shoulders, accepting of the truth. "Like a bunch of antifreeze lyin' around?"

Jane scoffed. "More like a note sayin' he did it, but hey, you never know, maybe we'll get that lucky. This is more like - wait for six hours in front of his place while he does God knows what, hoping for him to slip up."

He had to laugh at that - if only. "Alright, alright. Be careful out there, yeah?"

"Of course. I've been doing this half my life."

* * *

"Hey," Frankie rapped two knuckles on Maura's office door before entering.

"Frankie, hi," she said, looking up from a file on her desk, her smile bright and her hair half pulled back by tiny clip - a timeless version of herself. She motioned for him to take a seat on her sofa.

"It's still weird to see _Rizzoli_ on the Chief Medical Examiner's door," he laughed, easy and free, as he took a seat on the couch.

"Trust me, I know," said Maura. She moved from her seat to a chair close to him. "What brings you by?"

"Just got out of my performance review," he said, rubbing his hands on his knees.

"Oh! And how did it go?"

"Good. I'm the sibling that plays well with others, you know."

"I would say that's true."

"So," he began again, "you have a lunch date for today? I know Jane's stuck out on this surveillance job, and Nina's off at Elena's career day."

Maura smiled. "I was going to stay in and wait for the results of this test I'm going on more rope fibers for your case, but that won't be done in an hour. I would love to have lunch with you."

Frankie looked happy enough to burst. "Perfect. Where you wanna go?"

* * *

"Thanks for takin' pity on me," he said as they pulled up to a small cafe a few blocks from the station. "I mean, I was willing to take you anywhere, but, well. This cafe has stuff I can pronounce _and_ stomach."

Maura laughed. She let him open the door to the restaurant for her, and let him pull out her chair when they were shown to a table. "I like this place. It started as a compromise between me and Jane, but they really are committed to clean cooking and eating."

Frankie nodded as he put his napkin on his lap. "I'll take it. I'm… honestly just happy to be able to do this again."

"Have lunch?" asked Maura, puzzled.

Frankie took notice of the little purse in her lips and the brightening of her eyes - Maura was beautiful in a lasting way, in a way that was defined not by the luck of her genes, but by the physicality of her emotions: the brightness of her curiosity and the darkness of her grief and everything in between. "Yeah. We used to all the time, remember?"

Indeed she did. "Yes. It was one good thing that came out of Jane's gallivanting - she was hardly free in the afternoon."

"I missed you, is all, for awhile there," Frankie said, as though he were apologizing for the memories. "I think we all did."

"I missed you, too," Maura smiled genuinely as they received their drinks. "Though, I feel like I stayed pretty close by with all of Nina's talk about you."

He reddened. "Yeah. She really likes you, Maura. She really likes E, too."

"Elena likes her. As evidenced by her insistence that Nina attend career day today, instead of any of us."

"Let's not talk about how jilted we all are. I think she could tell last night that I was feelin' a little left out."

They both shared a laugh. "On a more serious note, thank you," Maura said.

"For what?" asked Frankie.

"For being there for Jane. For letting Nina be there for me. I hope your… allegiances haven't put a strain on your relationship."

His face darkened. "There are no allegiances, Maura. None. We want the both of you to be happy." when she nodded and blinked rapidly, he turned light again. "She was a little mad at me when she found out I knew that you and Jane were sleeping together, though."

Maura blushed. "Well, even so, thank you for keeping that secret."

He laughed. "Didn't do a whole lot of good, did it? Everyone knows."

"Still. You're a good man. Kind and loyal," she assured him with a pat to his wrist. "Now. Where is our waitress?"

* * *

Jane slumped in her cruiser about four houses down from Pete Zalinski's modest home. He had downsized after filing for bankruptcy, small yard and less square-footage, but considering he lived alone, it was still a lot of space.

Three bedrooms, for example, was more than enough for a bachelor to hide things, she knew. And, hell - call it a gut feeling, but since he had entered the front door that morning, she'd seen nothing, and four quiet hours alone for a murder suspect could be anything but good.

The day was unassuming enough, perfect for her surveillance, at least. A bright, cold day with crisp sunlight put people at ease. When it was cloudy, rainy, snowy, citizens got antsy, paranoid, violent, and those conditions were never good for keeping a low profile for a detective. But she sat out on the quiet street now, watching the rare pedestrian or dog walker pass by, convinced of her cover. The comfort of other people turned into the cloak that Jane used to move among them undetected, and so far, the mid-November afternoon was no different.

She was careful to not let the lull of their security become her own when Pete Zalinski exited his front door with a large company duffle over his shoulder. He locked it, wearing no hat or large coat to hide his stocky frame or balding head. In fact, he would have seemed totally at ease if it weren't for the sweat spots forming under his arms in the 40 degree air.

Quite frankly, they made Jane sweat a little bit, too. She dialed her younger brother, and pulled away to follow Zalinski's gray corolla down a side street.

"Hey, Janie. What's up?" Frankie answered.

"Hey, brother," she barked. When she heard the bubbling anger in her voice, she took a deep breath. "This guy's on the move. I don't know where, but I'm following him. Stay near a computer so you can give me details once I get to where we're goin', yeah?"

It was silent, and she could tell he was mulling her words over. "Well, I'm just leaving lunch now, but I should be back soon. Nina's on her way to the station if you need to call her."

 _Fuck_. Jane felt a familiar cocktail of adrenaline and nausea in her stomach. "Alright. I'll keep you posted. Maura give you any updates on those tests she was runnin' for me?"

"No, she says they won't be done until we get back, but she's right here. You wanna talk to her?"

"No, it's ok. Tell her I'll see her when I get back," she said, assuming some fake calm. If Maura were in the car, she needn't be hearing Jane's hunting-voice.

She hung up and turned when Zalinski did, parking a few houses down from where he stopped in front of another single story family home, with a lifted Chevy truck parked out front. She braved herself for a chase, steeled herself for confrontation, but her suspect didn't leave his car. _Odd_. He seemed to be on his phone, scrolling, sending a glance to the house every few moments, as though he were confirming something.

She pulled out her phone again.

This time, Nina picked up with her usual greeting. "Hey girl."

"Are you back yet? Can you run an address for me?" replied Jane.

"Whoa, slow down, tiger. You're not even gonna ask me how it went?"

Jane remembered her therapy, or at least desperately attempted to. She looked to Zalinski's car; he was still inside. She breathed. "How'd it go? Was Elena on her best behavior?"

Nina laughed. "Of course. That's Maura's kid; you think she'd act out in class? It was fun, and gosh, she looks so much like you, Jane. It's ridiculous and too adorable for words."

"Well, if I can't take credit for anything else, at least I can for her looks." Jane smiled despite herself.

"True that. So I just walked into BRIC. What's that address?"

"62 Barkley Ave. I'm tailing a suspect now and this is where he pulled up."

"Ok…. 62 Barkley…. looks like a Roger Barton, 45. Real gun nut, spent some time in prison about a decade ago for illegal possession of a firearm, member of the NRA, and… oh shit."

"What?" Jane asked.

"Well, we know how they know each other - Robert Barton is an employee at G&C - in the same department as Peter Zalinski. And, between you and me, he got dinged for not having a valid credit card on the same sports betting site as Fiers."

"You're shitting me," said Jane, her mouth going dry.

"Not at all," Nina replied.

"Zalinski must have vouched for him over at G&C. Christ. Frankie there?"

"No, he's not back yet. Want me to give him a message?"

"Nah, I'll call him. Thanks, Nina. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Jane. Be safe out there."

The final statement jabbed Jane in the heart. She called Frankie again, praying he would pick up, and after four rings, he did. "Callin' me back so soon?" he asked, a lazy positivity in his voice.

"You at the station?"

"Just pulled in," he replied, noting how she gruffed out her question.

"Well pull out. Zalinski went to one of his employees' houses. A guy who bet with him and Fiers."

"Christ." He cursed, ever her mirror. "He go in?"

"No. I gotta call G&C, see if the guy's at work. Zalinski left his place with what looks like a total B&E bag."

"Ok, on my way. Maura's with me, just so you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get here… Look. I… I need you, I need back up. I can't be goin' in alone if there's trouble, Frankie. I can't leave my kid without a parent."

He paused; she heard his swallow. "We know, Janie. We know, and we won't let that happen. We're already on our way."

As they spoke, Zalinski exited his vehicle and marched toward the front door. She hung up, and then called the front desk of G&C International; when she was told that Mr. Barton called in sick, she cursed, and prepared to stop Zalinski.

But then he opened the door with a key.

This gave her pause. _Were they in it together?_ She waited, foot pounding the car floor, right hand searching the backseat for her Kevlar. She strapped it on, hands a few nervous pulses away from trembling, and resolved, against the will of every reckless fiber in her body, to wait for her brother.

Minutes crawled by, and she watched silhouettes dance from one window to another. They weren't arguing, they weren't yelling, but some sort of spirited conversation was taking place.

 _Can they help you?_ she heard Dr. Harley ask. _Can they stop them?_ If only she could channel her hard head into insisting on help than on going rogue. Instead, she was left with anxiety through the roof and deadly indecision in her lap - every car that came around the bend was Frankie's, until it wasn't, and every sound was a tousle, a muffled scream, until she looked toward the two men now sitting, their heads the only parts of them in sight and intact.

She weaved between moments of peril and peace, her brain embroiled in purgatory, and she was about to pray for release, when she heard it, _saw_ it.

The singular _bang_ of gunfire.

* * *

 _...Shots fired, I repeat shots fired 62 Barkley requesting back up…_

Maura's wild eyes shook Frankie to the bones. The radio crackled and popped and distorted any sound coming across the waves, but that voice was unmistakable. _Jane_.

"Fuck!" he shouted as he gunned the gas, and Maura popped the bubble light on the roof. "I shoulda been there. I should have gone there with her!"

Maura said nothing, and he did not know to be grateful for or terrified of the silence.

* * *

Jane bolted from her car and sprinted across the street, her long legs carrying her over the hedges in her path. She could wait no longer, and in a way, a wave of thankfulness tickled the back of her consciousness - there was no need to be tortured by indecision because the situation necessitated action, and in action she thrived. It was tempered by a wave of nausea, nausea brought on by the possibility that she ran straight into the last time she would ever see her daughter or hold her wife again - the possibility of utter solitude.

"Boston police!" she yelled as she kicked down the front door, her boot striking so forcefully as to send splinters flying in every direction. Her gun was drawn and her guard was high. _Can they help you?_ "Hands up! Now!"

Peter Zalinski looked ready to shit himself at the sight of her.

"Do it, god dammit! Hands up, behind your head! Knees to the ground!" She ordered.

He did it, and recovered some of his faculties, but not enough to keep the stutter from his voice. "He… he just pulled the trigger. I told him not to do it."

"Give it a rest," scoffed Jane as she cuffed him, seeing Barton with a gun near his dead hand and a bullet hole in his temple, but with Zalinski ungloved and covered by spatter. They surveyed each other then, and she saw the age-old fear of being caught in his eyes. No remorse, no real defeat, just the cowardly trembling of a hand in the cookie jar. She wondered if she were the same, if he could see the same in her - when she holstered her firearm and felt its weight at her hip, she wondered if she even had changed, with all that peace, that hard emotional work, quite possibly having gone to shit in an instant.

She arrested him for the murder of Robert Barton; it was all that she could do. He started to declare his innocence before she could even lift him off the ground. _Of course_.

When they exited, her classic strut merely a motion to go through - a way to hide the turmoil plaguing her - she saw Frankie and two more uniforms coming up to the house, and her face fell into what he would later classify as agony. The uniforms took the suspect away, but Frankie stayed, stayed for the full on Herculean, Macbethian, epic tragedy about to cover their familial sky once again.

"Oh Janie," he cooed, a hand on her shoulder, "you did everything right. Everything. If she can't see that, then…"

She shook her head at him, dismissed him. Put her hand to her head and breathed in, begging the old Jane to muster up some resolve, a stiff upper lip, but it only dramatized the onslaught of her sobbing, when it finally came. She barely registered the slamming of a car door then, but Maura came running anyway, and she cursed her inability to steel herself.

Jane spoke just before she was gathered into strong arms. "I can't change it, I can't, but y-you gotta know I tried Maura. I tried so damn hard-"

"You asked for help, Jane - I was there when you asked for help, I was there," whispered Maura frantically, cutting her off. She squeezed with the intensity of conviction; gone was the insecurity, the shyness that had tattooed her touches for the previous month and a half, and then she grabbed Jane's face and held it between her hands. "All you ever had to do was ask for help," she croaked, the fury of pent up emotion finally bleeding through.

She kissed Jane's temple, her brow, her lips, her nose. She kissed everywhere that she could find, and she wrapped her arms around broad shoulders tight enough to hurt.

Jane brought them to their knees in the grass.


	17. The Line

A/N: No flashbacks here. This is the last chapter of _Pyrite_ before the epilogue. It's been real; you've been the best audience I could ask for. And I think we're going to get 250 reviews!

* * *

"You're in no shape to be doin' this, Jane," Frankie warned as the two Rizzolis stopped just outside Interrogation room 4.

"Who's the junior detective here, Frankie? I know what I can and can't do," Jane said. She brushed past him, but he grabbed her arm.

"Remember what happened the last time you said that? You gave a suspect the beating of his life in there. You're lucky you weren't suspended. Your world's upside down right now - again," he warned, raising an eyebrow to drive his point home. Jane rolled her eyes and pushed through the door.

Peter Zalinski, still in cuffs but now chained to the interrogation table, sneered at her.

"Alright, Pete," Jane sighed as she took a seat, and Frankie followed. "I heard the shot go off. I saw you covered in blood when I busted down that door." She already began to refute his declarations of innocence before they left his mouth. "So, with what's facing you, neither you nor I have the time to pretend like you didn't do this."

"You're right, detective. You were there - you saw the gun by Barton's own damn hand. He shot himself! Guy was losing his job! Not my fault!" Pete raised voice and his body, struggled against his shackles, but something about it all seemed manufactured. "I heard about you, you know."

"Oh yeah? What'd you hear?" Jane asked, willing to play.

"That you beat the shit out of my friend Andre a few months ago. You got away with it, but I saw his fucking face," Pete spat, yanking his cuffs again.

The rattling angered Frankie. "Hey, simmer down," he demanded. Pete reluctantly fell back to his chair, but kept his eyes trained on Jane, searching for any discomfort, any anger. If asked, Frankie would never admit it, but he spared a few glances her way, too - readied his muscles to restrain her.

She only sighed again, surprising the both of them. "Look. Our best criminalists processed that scene, and our Medical Examiner is performing Mr. Barton's autopsy as we speak. She will be able to tell in minutes whether or not that gunshot wound was self-inflicted." Jane reasoned, her voice an eerie calm creeping over the tumult in the room. Pete's face turned pained, red, but he no longer looked like he was going to flip the table and himself with it.

This told Jane to go in for the kill, eventually - she smelled the hunt coming to an end, but was in no particular rush given the confidence that pulsed against her temples. "You didn't have time to hide your tracks with Barton. Not like you did with Fiers. You really were thorough with that one. But we're gonna find the antifreeze you used to poison him, and match it to that blender bottle at his desk."

Pete's mouth fell open. "I didn't-"

"Again. Don't waste our time, Pete. We know, alright? Because even if I don't get the antifreeze, I had a forensic scientist come in here and match the suicide note you wrote on Fiers' computer with some work e-mails and a few sports blog posts of yours," she leaned in then, predatory, but with the snarl all in her eyes. "It goes beyond reasonable doubt."

The stare withered him. He hung his head.

"So. You mind telling me what's going on? Me and my colleague here are the only ones who can help you. Don't piss away any chance for mercy that you got just because you _think_ you outsmarted us."

"Fan Cash," he said on the exhale.

"The sports betting site," Frankie clarified.

"Yeah. Me and Mike and Barton, we had a little thing goin' on the side, only those two guys were skimmin' some extra off my shares."

"From your subordinates," said Jane, leaning in, empathy all over her face, convincing despite being false.

Pete gulped. His eyes looked away as he spoke, as though he thought himself somewhere else. "Yeah," he said tersely, waving the idea off, "Mike and Bart, you know, they had problems, went to the same shrink. It's probably why they took that money from me. Somethin' wasn't right with their heads. But I needed that extra cash! I gotta pay the IRS!"

Jane shook her head. "So… you thought that killing them would help?"

"It sure as hell stopped them, didn't it? With them gone, I could have a little breathing room," Pete answered, and tried to cross his arms. When he realized what he had just said, all the color left his face.

"Thanks, Pete," Frankie said as his sister walked out of the room, content with their confession.

* * *

Maura sat at her desk, a long day almost over, and watched her daughter do homework at the table just a few feet away. Elena completed math problems with no knowledge of the afternoon's goings on, with no idea how much her life was about to change, yet again. Maura only hoped that she and Jane wouldn't botch it this time, that they cradled their daughter's heart with reverence.

And then, as though on cue, Jane herself knocked on the door, a handsome juxtaposition to the boyish harmlessness of her brother from earlier in the day.

The events of the afternoon had run her ragged, and it showed in the bags under her eyes. She paused when she saw Elena there, clearly not expecting her, Jane clearly less alert because of her exhaustion. "Hey, Ballgame," she recovered. "Did your _Nanna_ bring you by?"

"Yeah, she couldn't get off work so she dropped me off. What time is it?" Elena did not look away from the problem she was in the middle of using her fingers to count through.

"Uh, bout half past five," Jane answered, looking at her watch.

"Ok, she should be almost done at work now," explained her daughter. "Why are you in Mommy's office?"

 _Full of questions today, kid. Leave the interrogating to the professionals._ "Because we're all gonna be having dinner at the house, and I thought I'd…" suddenly Jane felt embarrassed, and then felt embarrassed for feeling embarrassed. _She's your wife,_ she remembered Elena saying. "I thought I'd see if she wants me to walk her to her car."

Jane looked to Maura, who smiled and let the conversation continue, without mercy and without interruption.

"Oh. I can do it," Elena said. "We're going home together."

Jane smiled, cheeks hot, and sat down on the sofa near her daughter. Her voice became soft, and acquiescent. "You're right, Elena. She has you to do it, doesn't she?"

Maura got up then. "Why don't we all walk out together?" she suggested, smoothing her hands on her dress before sitting next to Jane. Elena nodded, agreeable to the arrangement, apparently, but not particularly interested.

Jane, however, was _very_ interested. Interested enough in what Maura just said to lay her head on her shoulder, and stifle tears.

Maura reveled in the way she didn't feel conflicted at the touch anymore, and closed her eyes, daring to put a hand on Jane's back and let it rest there.

* * *

"Hey, Baby," Angela Rizzoli greeted Frankie as he walked through the doors of the Dirty Robber. "why the long face?"

He smiled despite her comment. "Just a whale of a day is all, Ma. Can I get a beer?" He asked and took a seat at the bar in front of her. "Kinda empty tonight."

"Yeah. Tuesday's aren't really big for the bar and grill crowd," Angela shrugged. She handed him his beer. "I hope your day was just long, not bad. Everything alright with Nina?"

Frankie's chest warmed. Despite her meddling and nagging, his mother loved him and his siblings more than could be said, perhaps more than they could imagine. "Yeah. Nina's great. And my day was… interesting. Good, ultimately. But it started early and ended late. Detective life, you know?"

"Yeah. And you know what? I've come to accept it now, with you and your sister both doing it," she said. She was older for it - the lines around her eyes and her lips a little more premature than they all would have guessed they'd be for her age, but it was true; she had been much better about… letting go since Jane had shot herself. "I'll tell you, kiddo, it took me awhile to get to this place, and sometimes I'm still not there. But I wouldn't change your careers for the world."

"Wow," said Frankie. His eyes grew wide with amazement. "Really?"

"Yes," Angela laughed at his reaction. "Really. Because I see how happy the two of you are, getting to do what you love. And that's all your father and I wanted for you your whole lives - was to be able to love what you do, in the way that we couldn't. I remember being all of 20 years old and looking at Jane for the first time - my only thought was, 'I want you to be happy. I want you to pursue what makes you happy.' And, she is. All my kids are, in their own way."

Frankie's face softened at the sight of his mother's emotion. "We do, Ma. We love this work."

"I know. Sometimes you go and get into trouble and I just want to kill you myself - running in front of cars, chasing men with loaded guns, jumping out of three story buildings," the last one was his own feat, and he blushed, "but I get over it. Because I love you."

He nodded and drank. "We love you too, Ma. You know, speakin' of all this stuff, what time do you get off?"

She looked at the clock. 5:40 PM. "Like twenty minutes. Why?"

"Good, because we're going to Maura's for dinner. She's cookin'."

Angela looked suspicious, but hopeful. "And why is that?"

He shrugged, but grinned in a way that she often attributed to only Tommy and Jane - mischief hid behind it. "Just because, I guess. Can't she cook in her own house and have her family over?"

"Of course," she answered, but narrowed a distinctly Italian glare his way, "you better tell me what's going on, _Cicciu."_

It was ironic the way she used his Sicilian nickname, really; it sounded intimate and soft, but it only ever came out when she was truly irritated. He couldn't help but laugh. "I asked her to host, alright? I wanted my family together, and she offered to cook. Maura made a decision today, Ma. A good one. And I want to celebrate it."

* * *

"You know, we could have gotten take out," Jane commented as she and Maura met again in the courtyard after taking off in separate cars. She held Elena on her hip, who stretched to ring the doorbell. "What're you doin', kid? The door's unlocked."

Elena just shrugged. Maura laughed. "Nonsense. I have that eggplant in the freezer; all we have to do is pop it in the oven. She likes to push buttons, you know."

"I can see that," said Jane. She pushed her way into the home and was accosted by the warmth that hit her: both from the heating system and her mother's hug.

"Hi, Janie," said Angela.

"Hi Ma…" Jane returned, and gulped as she was squeezed.

" _Nanna!"_ yelped Elena, caught in the crosshairs, squealing to be let go. As soon as she was, she moved towards the bathroom.

"It smells like pizza in here," said Maura, her tone accusatory, but her features light.

Angela waved her off. "No one's cooking tonight, honey. Me and Frankie picked up some _Nick's_ on the way home. It's easier."

Maura shook her head but let herself be hugged, too. "Thank you."

Angela just squeezed her tighter. "So, you decide to stop punishing Jane?" she asked as she turned her face into Maura's hair.

"We're trying to take things slowly, and figure out what we both want," Maura replied, careful to neither dash nor feed Angela's hopes, and careful to make sure Jane was out of earshot. Angela, however, knew better than to let the small details of life deter her happiness. "That wasn't the question," she replied as she pulled back and smirked.

Maura reddened as she answered, properly this time. "Yes. The answer to your question is yes. Now can we eat?"

"Always, baby. We can always eat," said Angela. "Ok, at the table, kids! No more horsing around, TV off!" She looked pointedly to Jane and Frankie, who had turned on the tv to watch the Celtics, and were now in a heated debate.

"Ah c'mon!" Frankie whined, but got punched in the shoulder by his sister when his niece came out to the kitchen.

"Quit it, or I'm gonna be dealin' with that from her for weeks!" Jane whispered harshly.

"What?!" Frankie volleyed back. He rubbed the sore spot on his arm.

"That! The whining! Now sit down," said Jane.

He rolled his eyes, but the light danced across his pupils as they grew, just like his grin, to accommodate it. "We got a meat lover's, you know, E."

Elena clapped as Jane held out her chair for her, and then for Maura; Frankie and Angela watched with wide eyes and stifled smiles; Jane glared and scooted her own set on the hardwood floor. "How 'bout you two quit yuckin' it up over there and open up the pie?"

Frankie guffawed then. _His sister's old audacity - some things will never change_. "Sure, Janie. Whatever you want - you're the boss." He snarked, but with good humor.

"Watch it, Frankie," she warned.

"Jane, leave your brother alone," Angela said, swooping in to take his side in her typical way, "He's only ever been good to you."

This made Jane hot behind the ears, as it always did. "Oh yeah? Then what's this I hear about you and Stacy King?"

"Jane!" Exclaimed Maura, immediately covering her wife's mouth with her hand.

"E!" Frankie turned to his niece, mortified, who turned to Maura the same.

"Mom!" she shrieked, pizza half-chewed and nearly forgotten.

"Wait, who's Stacy King?" Angela asked, until the name registered, "oh my God. Frankie you slept with that girl?!"

"No! I just kissed her!" he said, his hands flying up in front of him.

"Oh it sounded like a lot more than that," Jane said. She pointed to him, elbow on the table.

"But it was less than sleepin' with her!"

"Stop, you two. Eat," Maura intervened. She shook her head and patted her daughter's shoulder. "That was a lifetime ago."

"Mmhmm," Jane smirked. "You're just saying that because you squawked about the secret."

"Who's Stacy King?" asked Elena for the second time during this debacle, unknowingly saving her mother from certain crashing and burning.

All four adults turned and said "no-one," and when they did, a quiet, tension-breaking laughter erupted amongst them.

"Now, can we just eat as a family without worrying about you two starting a food fight?" Angela asked. "I swear you two will be going at it into your eighties."

"We're not fighting, Ma!" Jane said.

"Yeah, just discussin'," Frankie agreed.

Maura knew that if she didn't pull something drastic, they would go on in this vein forever. "So, tell me how the interrogation went," she offered, pulling the work card.

"Great. Guy confessed without a lawyer present. I thought he would be smarter with the way he faked the suicides of Fiers and Barton, but it was Dr. Polanski's work that really sealed the deal," answered Jane, distracted easily enough, folding a slice before chomping down.

"That, and your guys' work on the ballistics, Maura. Real top notch," Frankie added around a bite.

"Would you three quit talking about all that stuff in front of the baby? She's six!" Angela, however, was not at all interested in hearing about the work of the day, especially if Elena were around.

"I like hearing about work, _nanna_ ," the little girl shrugged at the mention of her name, but Jane shared a gaze with Maura and nodded.

" _Nanna_ 's right," she sighed. "it's not dinner table talk." Maura smiled and kept the warmth that blossomed at Jane's new discretion close to her heart.

When they had all finished and Elena was recruited into helping with the dishes, she turned to her wife. "Jane, would you like to take a walk with me?"

"You kidding? It's frigid out, Maura," Jane said distractedly as she and Frankie discussed the upcoming Patriots game, but then he pinched her arm. "Ouch!"

"Go," he whispered as though Maura weren't three feet away, and already in her coat.

Jane looked up then, saw the way Maura ordered without words, beckoned without begging. "Alright, let me get my jacket on."

She did so, and let herself be lead from the front door to the sidewalk at the end of the drive. "Shit, it's cold," she breathed, and a fog appeared around her lips. The night promised rain, possibly snow, and yet here she was, strolling next to Maura on their quiet street. Maura took her hand. This floored Jane, but she said nothing, only squeezed the smaller set of cold fingers in her pocket for fear of them drifting away. "So… what are we doing out here?" she asked.

"I am so in love with you, Jane," she said on the swirls of a sigh, and Jane watched those swirls flutter into the air – she so badly wanted to swallow them up, to breathe them in. "I love you."

"I know," Jane said, glad to have the chance to say it, elated to have the chance to hear it.

"Do you? I haven't told you in nine months, except for in bed," Maura refused to look Jane in the face at that moment, fear of her running away shook her, so she only stared straight ahead. "That doesn't count."

"That counts," Jane said, squeezing her hand to let her know she heard, that she was there. "We wouldn't be doing it so often if we didn't still love each other."

"I want you back," Maura startled her for the second time in the span of a few minutes. "I want to be with you. I want to try again and I want my daughter to have a stable home."

The last statement gave Jane pause. "You want me? Or you want me to be around for Elena?"

"Both. I need you around for me and for her. I don't want her to end up in the situations that the both of us had with our parents. And I don't want to sleep alone anymore."

Jane blinked some tears away and paused for a long while. "I've changed, I think, but I'm not perfect."

"No one is."

"My family is still-"

"Your family is still my family, too. Remember what I told you when I said I wanted to take your name?"

"Sort of."

"That the Rizzolis have been family to me better than I can ever remember the Isles' being family to me. There's the fact that I no longer not wanted my father's surname, yes. But I also wanted yours because it represented something I had never really known before. And I'm not just going to denounce them as soon as they're inconvenient, or denounce you as soon as you're inconvenient," said Maura.

Jane gulped. "It felt that way for awhile."

"That I denounced you because you were inconvenient?" Maura asked.

"Yeah. But then I realized that it was a hell of a lot more than inconvenient. I tried, Maura. I'm trying."

"And I'm attempting to recognize that."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"And, I know I've said," Jane paused as she stopped them at a crosswalk, "but I… I really want to come back, Maura. I really want to try again." her voice broke and Maura removed her hand from Jane's pocket to hold the sides of her face instead.

Jane relished the feeling of affection, so absent from her life for most of the year.

"Good. We're on the same page," Maura joked softly.

Jane released a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "And, I really want to have sex with you. Been thinkin' about it all day."

It was Maura's turn to chuckle. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Tonight. If you don't have plans."

"Well, Tuesdays are usually when I have the gardener over for a midnight romp, but…"

"Maura!"

Maura laughed, and kissed Jane's lips. "We will. And when we do, _I_ would very much like it if you stayed over."


	18. Welcome Home Epilogue

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, reviewing, and favoriting. It means a lot to me. Until next time, my friends.

* * *

Jane sat at the table among the last of her yet-to-be-wrapped gifts and various rolls of paper, ribbons, and bows. She'd never been the most adept at dressing up her friends' and family's presents, especially after Hoyt when nerve damage made super-refined movements such as this difficult, but when Elena came along she devoted herself to getting it right.

But, her trademark procrastinating remained, which was why now, after Midnight Mass and into early Christmas morning, she had yet to finish. Somehow, each package's paper was as crisp as she could get it at the tail end of a full day of work, a seven fishes feast big enough to feed the entire North End, and knuckles turned white against the steering wheel after sitting in the church parking lot for half an hour to find a spot. _Relax Ma,_ a giddy Elena had said from the backseat, and Jane had to admit that calmed her a little.

She knew she had one last thing on her to-do list after they returned, and this was it - no lights were on except for the dim reach of the white Christmas tree bulbs, but she preferred it so. The chair groaned as she adjusted herself to alleviate the ache in her back, and she nearly yelped in victory when she put the finishing touches on a shoebox-sized gift wrapped in red with silver ribbon.

Oh, how she had struggled with this one - alone at a crime scene while Elena picked the perfect reference for the prize inside with Maura. Her features darkened, turned eerie in the shadows at the thought of all the time she had missed with her daughter over the year. The thoughts dampened her thrill at delivering on the perfect gift; the wasted time and ruins of their old life reminded her to try harder, to love harder, to be more present despite any obstacle.

She thus looked at the last few items with less vigor: Frankie's copy of _Computer Forensics in the 21st Century_ , Tommy's signed and display-ready Bruins game puck, Nina's mug with a bag of Jane's favorite obscure brew inside - they all excited her less, daunted her more when she read 2:25 AM on her watch and licked her proverbial wounds.

* * *

" _Wow, holding hands," whistled Dr. Bradley as he watched Jane and Maura stroll into his office._

" _Something new we thought we'd try," offered Jane, who waited for Maura to sit before taking her own place._

" _You two have made some progress, then?" he asked as they all settled in, straightening the neck tie of yet another dapper ensemble. He crossed his legs and readied his notes._

" _I think you could say that," said Maura._

" _It's been two weeks. The homework I gave you must really be helping," he commented, impressed._

 _Jane gulped and looked to the ground. "We've uh, we've been talking a lot, that's for sure."_

" _I take that to mean you weren't successful in abstaining."_

" _Not quite," Maura answered._

" _Well, this is new, and of course, no one is perfect. But have you at least seen a difference? How many times have you had sex since our last meeting?"_

 _Jane coughed some indiscernible number._

 _What was that?"_

" _Eight." she clarified, her face hot._

" _Oh. I see," Dr. Bradley said, trying not to laugh. "Did you even attempt to resist?"_

" _Define attempt," said Jane._

 _Maura rolled her eyes. "She likes to deflect. We were successful three times. But, for the sake of clarity, I must say that there were… extraordinary circumstances that arose right after we saw you last, Dr. Bradley."_

" _The two of you like this term. And what were those circumstances?" he asked, leaning forward._

" _Well, Jane… Jane performed surveillance on a murder suspect that week, and it turned into a shots fired situation. She was alone."_

" _And you were angry with her?"_

" _No. It was the opposite, in fact. I was very pleased with her."_

" _That is definitely interesting. Why?"_

" _Because she asked for help, both from her brother and on the radio."_

" _And this is new?"_

" _She never does this. Not when it's just her. It was… the sign that I was looking for. The sign that she had changed enough, that she had taken me seriously, that I could trust her to do what was necessary for her family."_

" _This is… very good," Dr. Bradley said, "and very lucky, Maura. Usually, people don't get the external 'signs' they seek in order to propel them into action. I'm glad to hear that you got what you were looking for. Jane, did you get what you were looking for?"_

" _I was… am, looking to get my family back. So, I think we're on the way there," Jane answered._

" _Hmm. At our last session, visits with Elena were a sore spot. Are you allowed to see her unsupervised now?"_

" _Most of the time."_

" _I still have some discomfort with that," Maura cut in. "She is allowed to see her on the weekends, take her to practices and meetings, but I am hesitant to let her pick up Elena from school alone."_

" _And this is because picking Elena up from school is what started this whole thing," Dr. Bradley said._

" _Yeah," Jane responded. "But it's been two weeks. I don't expect her to just be comfortable overnight."_

" _Speaking of, are you staying overnight?" he asked Jane, seemingly out of left field._

" _I'm sorry?"_

" _At night. Are the two of you sleeping in the same bed?"_

" _A few times," Maura answered honestly._

" _I'm just asking for clarification. Usually this means that people have made a decision about the future of their relationship."_

" _We have," said Maura. She and Jane shared a perplexed look._

" _We would like to get back together," Jane shrugged. "Sooner rather than later."_

" _And how has Elena taken that?" At that question, they shared a mortified one._

However, when she heard footsteps creak the floor behind her breaking her from her stewing, too heavy and measured to be the sleepy patter of a child, she smiled anew.

* * *

"Is that _Elena Giuliana's_ glove?" asked Maura, in a voice colored by tiredness, but not by sleep.

"Thought I told you not to come down here while I was finishing up. Good thing I finished yours first," said Jane, the tension in her lumbar spine dissipating at the tender hands on her shoulders, rubbing deep circles, then lighter ones, until they disappeared.

"Mmm. It truly is a work of art, you know," Maura replied and not replied, taking the seat next to Jane and taking the wrapping supplies from her.

"Yeah, I know. The leatherwork alone makes me teary," Jane let the deflection slide. "I can do that."

Maura waved her off as she readied the paper for the book and shadow box. "Nonsense. You've been on your feet all day. You've used your hands more than medically advisable given what has happened to you. I am happy to do it."

"Well, thank you," said Jane, taking in all of Maura that she loved most: the mess of her hair from the bedsheets, the way her robe teased just enough fair skin, the way the glint of the diamond on her left hand caught her eyes, highlighting the beauty of the green in them. It warranted a kiss to her cheek, at least, so she did it.

"What was that for?" asked Maura, smirking but not looking up from the ribbon she wrapped around _Computer Forensics._

"For bein' you," Jane smiled goofily. "For keeping our family intact while I sorted my shit out."

"You and I are still 'sorting shit out', Jane."

"I know, but now we get to do it together. The three of us, under one roof."

* * *

" _He's right. She deserves to know," Maura said as she was guided up to the front door with a hand at the small of her back._

" _But now?" Jane nearly whined as she fished for her keys._

" _Yes. I think it's best. We've known for a week and a half now. It's not fair to keep it from her when it involves her, you know?"_

" _I know." The key turned in the lock, and the two of them walked in to Angela and Elena drawing at the kitchen table. "Hey Ma."_

" _Hey, baby. How was your day?" Angela asked, smiling, but not getting up from her seat. Elena, deep in concentration, did not look toward her parents._

" _It was good. Thanks for watching Elena while we were out, huh?"_

" _Of course, you know it's the highlight of my week."_

" _Yeah," smiled Jane. "Could you uh, give us a second to talk to her?"_

 _Immediately Angela scanned their faces for tears, for the remnants of an argument, for tragedy. She saw none of it, but still nodded cautiously. "Sure. You have a good night, ok?" she said as she kissed Elena's head, and waved to Jane and Maura as she walked out._

 _Jane's mention of a private conversation was enough to pull the girl from her pencil and paper. She sweated as Jane and Maura took seats at her sides, shook her leg in a nervous habit until she could contain it no longer._

" _Are you getting divorced?" she asked as they sat there, saying nothing for a long while, the last of it coming out more like a wail than a question when she couldn't wait anymore._

 _Maura grabbed her hand. "What? No! Why would you think that?" Her features distressed at the question._

" _Well, my friend at school said that when his parents got divorced, his mom stopped wearing a ring and his Dad made him have a serious talk," she sniffled._

 _Jane pinched the bridge of her own nose. "Jesus," she cursed, taking in a calming breath before speaking to her daughter. "We're not getting a divorce, kid. We were separated for a little while, but that's what we wanted to talk to you about." Suddenly, she found herself lacking in words, lacking what exactly to say. She looked to Maura, who often claimed to have no skills in social situations, but also proved a way better Elena Rizzoli tamer than herself._

 _Maura nodded, turned Elena's chin towards her, and smiled. "_ Elena Giuliana. _Your_ Mamma _and I, well, we have decided not to fight anymore. We've decided that it's time to move on from… from what happened earlier this year, even though it was a very big deal. So, that means that she would eventually be moving back in here with you and I. We want to know your thoughts - as a part of this family, your opinion matters. What do you think about that? Would you like it if she came back to live with us?"_

 _Elena answered only in quiet tears and a slump into Jane's open arms, where she refused to leave for most of the night._

* * *

Jane waited a few minutes before saying more. "I, uh, for awhile I didn't think we'd be here this Christmas."

"Together?"

"Together. Living together, raising our kid together, going to mass together, any of it."

"We don't really go to mass besides the major holidays," Maura chuckled.

"No we don't. We should, though. The poor kid is gonna start to wonder why she has to go to catechism, but moms get to lounge in bed."

"A great way to spend Sunday morning, I will admit," Maura said in time with the blush on her cheeks. "But, perhaps that is a commitment we should make. For our daughter's sake."

Jane watched on as Maura put the expert touch on the last of her gifts. "Yeah. but we can decide that later. I just want to, you know, savor the moment right now. I'm still… trying to adjust to being back."

"You're here, my love. Where you belong," Maura waited, then called back when she marched the last of the presents over to the tree by the fireplace.

"I'm here," Jane reiterated, walking over to Maura, gathering her up in strong arms, burying her nose in the scent of perfume and the feel of reacquainting herself with the body against her.

"Mmhmm. Welcome home," said Maura, indulging, letting go, latching on. "Welcome home, Jane."


End file.
